


Wicked Game

by Minniver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Castiel, But he kind of sucks at it, Castiel in the Bunker, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Emotional Constipation, F/M, Fem!Cas, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Gabriel is a Little Shit, Gabriel tries to be helpful, Genderswap, Homophobic Language, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Oral Sex, Sam Ships It, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:24:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9179401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniver/pseuds/Minniver
Summary: It was supposed to be an easy case.  A simple salt-n-burn, just your average, run of the mill haunted house.  Until Dean and Cas get locked into a spell, causing Cas to be turned into a woman.  To get Cas back to normal, Dean will have to step way outside his comfort zone, and figure out just exactly what Cas means to him, and how far he's willing to go to be happy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, and was unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone. I hope you enjoy! This is a completed fic, and I'll be posting a chapter a day or so. So no worries about it being abandoned. Comments and criticisms are most welcome!

“Supposed to be a simple case. Come in, find the spirit, salt and burn. Shoulda been easy.” Dean groused, ducking as another piece of debris came flying down the stairs. 

Cas shook his head wearily, trying to get his bearings. He'd hit the banister hard and took a tumble down the stairs when what was definitely NOT a spirit shoved him hard. He looked up at Dean, crouched next to him, who gave him a concerned look, asking, “You okay?”

“I'm fine,” he answered, shaking his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. While he has his grace back, he's still not at full power. “I take it we are not dealing with a vengeful spirit, then,” he says dryly, standing back up and brushing dirt off his trench coat. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dean shot back, ducking as whatever it was threw down a chunk of masonry. Even though the house they'd come to investigate had been empty for years, stupid kids always wanted to investigate the 'haunted house'. It was only recently that kids that'd been coming to the house to explore had started to talk about having weird experiences, getting hurt and seeing odd apparitions. 

“Okay, so rock salt is out, since he laughed at it, so time for plan B,” Dean says, swapping out the rock salt rounds in his sawed off shotgun for regular rounds. 

“You think he is human?” Castiel asked. 

“Well, somebody shoved you down the stairs, and while it's true he didn't poof with the rock salt, he didn't act like it really hurt, either. So, we'll see what smart ass thinks of live ammo.” Dean finished loading the shotgun and started to head for the stairs. “Sammy needs to hurry his ass back here already,” he muttered, then stopped, frowning. 

“What is it, Dean?”

“It's stopped. It's quiet, and he's quit throwing things.” 

“Shouldn't we wait for Sam?” 

“Might be too late by then,” Dean answered. “Without knowing what we're dealing with, I don't wanna give him the chance to jump ship.” 

Cas nodded his agreement and followed Dean up the stairs, angel blade in hand. Whatever it was, it was old. That was all Cas could sense from it, but the energy felt familiar, like something half-remembered. They reached the top of the stairs, but it was still quiet, with no sign of the shadow they'd seen when they first entered the house. A creaking sound came from their left, and both men reacted, Dean pointing the shotgun and Cas raising his blade. Across the landing, a door slowly swung open, seemingly by itself. 

“No, that's not suspicious at all,” Dean groused, glancing at Cas. 

“You should let me go first, just in case,” Cas suggested.

Dean frowned at the angel. “I appreciate the offer, Cas, but you're still not 100%. I'm good, just watch my back.” 

“If you wish, Dean.” 

I really don't wish, Dean thought. Stupid pain in the ass monsters poppin' up from everywhere. Like every damn time I save the world it just goes to shit again. 

He took a deep breath, and eased around the door, his chest tight as he lead with the barrel of the shotgun, sweeping the room. For all that the door had seemed to open by itself, the room itself was empty, just bits of broken furniture and enough crap on the floor to create a small army of dust bunnies. He stepped a little farther into the room, enough to let Cas in behind him, feeling his warm presence at his shoulder. It always made him uncomfortable, Cas always standing so close to him. He certainly didn't do that with the others. Oh, and how it had riled Sammy when he'd tried so hard to reach Cas, and Dean summoned him with one try. “We do share a more profound bond,” Cas had explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Dean smiled a little at the memory, before a rustling noise at the edge of his peripheral vision sharpened his focus on the here and now. A rat moved again in the dim moonlight streaming in the broken window. That must have been what he heard. He started to turn to tell Cas that there was nothing here when Cas shoved against him, hard, knocking them both to the ground, Dean on his back with Cas on top.

“Cas, man, what the hell?” he growled, looking up at the angel currently sprawled on top of him. 

Cas looked down at him, wide-eyed and a tinge of pink on his cheeks, saying, “I'm sorry, Dean, I was shoved from behind again.” Huh, who knew angels could blush, Dean thought, and frowned, wondering where that thought came from. “Okay, off, Angel Boy.” 

Cas got up and offered Dean a hand up, pulling him to his feet. “The energy I felt earlier is back, but I don't see anything,” he said, looking around the room. 

“Well, that shove had to come from somewhere,” Dean said, looking warily around as well. While both their gazes were sweeping the room, the door slammed shut behind them, making them both jump. 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean swore, and headed for the door. The knob turned in his hand, but the door remained shut. He tried bracing his foot again the door and pulling, but nothing. “Cas, wanna give me a hand here?” he said, scowling at him.

“It's not going to work, Dean,” Cas replied calmly.

“What do you mean, it's not gonna work?” 

“I can feel the spell on the door from here. It's more powerful than anything I've seen for a long time. . .” he faltered, a frown creasing his brows. 

“What is it, what did you think of?”  
“It's almost as if. . .but. . .it can't be. . .I'm not sure what I'm feeling, but it's got such a familiar energy.”

“For God's sake, Cas, spit it out.”

“It almost feels like - “, Cas stopped again, unsure. Before he could finish, everything went black. 

***

“Dean? Dean, can you hear me?” the voice was familiar, but not. 

Dean frowned, his eyes still closed, and tried to think how he knew the voice calling his name. 

“Dean, please, if you can hear me, open your eyes.” 

Reluctantly, Dean complied, although at first everything swam and he seriously wanted to puke. Seriously, it was worse than the time he and Sammy had went on a three day bender after Bobby died. The room was filled with bright light, and a fuzzy form was leaning over him. 

“The hell? Or am I dead? Is this Heaven?” he asked groggily, as hands, warm and gentle, helped him sit up and pulled his back against another body. 

“Unfortunately, no,” the voice said, sadly. “I have no idea where we are.”

Dean shook his head slightly, but got dizzy again and stopped that shit quick. “Where are we, and who are you?” He squinted up at his benefactor, trying to make out who it was. His bleary vision started to focus, and at first all he saw were blue eyes, deep enough to drown in. Next was a untidy mop of black hair, sticking out at odd angles. Next was the face, delicate with neat dark brows and a very kissable mouth. Well, hell, if I'm dead, at least the scenery's nice, Dean thought. Then he frowned. The face, while alien, was also very familiar. 

“Dean? Are you alright?” The voice, also familiar, but different. Not as gravelly, not as low, but almost musical in timbre. “It's me,” the voice said again, while Dean closed his eyes, first in denial, then disbelief. 

“Cas?” he asked, opening his eyes and looking up into those blue eyes again. 

“Yes, Dean.” 

“Cas? You look - “, he stopped, shaking his head again, and looked, really looked. Swearing, he shoved off and away from Cas. “Ah, hell. Are you a woman now? Or am I having some kind of weird nightmare?”

Cas frowned at him, that look still purely Cas even on a female face. “So it would seem. This is very old magic, Dean, and I'm not sure where we are or what to do about it.”

“Okay, so why am I still, thank everything, a dude, but you are not? And what can you tell me?” He does a double take and feels the spit dry out in his mouth. Cas is still in the trench coat, which now hung on the even smaller frame like a child playing dress up. But the white dress shirt is no longer tucked into dark dress pants, and instead shirt and tie fluttered loosely around a very nice pair of legs. Dean quickly looks away, and adds, “And why the hell are you not wearing pants?” 

“I don't know why my vessel has changed, Dean, and all I can tell you is we are no longer in that house. We are somewhere else, but I don't know where.” 

“Still doesn't explain the no pants thing, Cas,” Dean says, pointed looking anywhere but at the angel.

“They no longer fit, and I tripped over them when I came to check on you. So I removed them.”

“Of course you did,” Dean closes his eyes, and then snaps them back open to dispel the image of smooth white legs poking out from underneath a comically long white dress shirt. “Can't you just poof us out of here?” 

“I have already tried that, Dean, but my powers are blocked here.” Cas sighed and ran a hand through his/her hair and looked at the floor in defeat.

Dean pulled out his cell and swore again. No signal. “Well, no calling Sammy for backup either, I guess.” He looked up at Cas. “How long was I out?”

He/she looked back up at him. “Not long. I woke shortly before you did.”

Dean looked around the room. Gone was the broken furniture and dust and dirt; this room was bright, airy, with expensive looking furniture. A large bed took up most of the far wall, one of those medieval looking frames that had gauzy curtains draped around the frame. There were no windows and no doors, but landscape paintings on the walls gave the illusion of windows looking out. “We're sure as hell not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” he grouses, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“We weren't in Kansas, Dean.” 

“Figure of speech, Cas,” he snarks, but without much heat. 

“I did find this,” Cas says, and Dean doesn't have a choice but to look at his companion, which lets him know just how much he'd been avoiding looking at him. Her. Dammit. He locks eyes with Cas and dares them to wander anywhere else. 

Dean frowns when Cas hands him a small roll of paper. “The hell?” He opens it and scans it quickly, and swears. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He looks up at Cas, angry. “Is this for real?”

“I don't know, Dean. But magic usually has rules, and this is no different. We've been given the key to breaking the spell.” 

“Do you understand what this is asking for Cas? Seriously? And I'm not okay with this.”

“I understand, Dean. I thought you said that sex without commitment was a good thing? I would think this wouldn't bother you,” Cas said, giving him that head tilt with a small frown.  
Green eyes flared with anger as they bored into blue ones. “Cas, it's basically taking advantage, it's not much better than rape. And I don't know what kind of sick fuck thinks that's awesome, but it's not me.”

“It's my understanding that rape isn't consensual. Therefore, if both parties consent, it's not rape,” she said, with infuriating calmness.

“I'm not okay with having to have sex with someone to break a spell. Especially if that person has been forced into a form that's not theirs. It's not right. And dammit, you're my friend. Who's normally a dude. And I'm not into dudes.”

“I'm not currently in my male form. And you have made several references over the years about 'friends with benefits', which I have inferred to mean that they are people you are friends with that you also have sex with. Therefore your arguments are invalid,” she said, crossing her arms under her breasts. 

“Dammit, Cas, this is different,” Dean said, looking away and running a hand over his hair. 

“How is it different, Dean?”

“It just is!” 

Soft hands, delicate and smaller than he was used to, gripped his face and pulled his chin down. At first, Dean wanted to be childish, and clamped his eyes shut before he could drown in ocean of blue. He was used to Cas being a few inches shorter than he was, but in this body her head was even with his shoulder. 

“What are you afraid of, Dean?” 

“It's not right, Cas,” he said quietly, trying to ignore how warm her hands were on his face. 

“Look at me, Dean.” 

Against his better judgment, he did, looking down into the face that was both alien and familiar. Same nose, same mouth, just done slightly smaller. The chin was softer, not as square, but the eyes were the same. Blue like October skies and deep enough to drown in. 

“Cas, this isn't you. And I'm not doing this, there has to be another way.” 

“Dean, I don't understand your reluctance. There are no consent issues, and I know that this form is pleasing to you.”

Dean frowned and jerked his face from her hands. “The hell you say,” he spat. 

“Is it not?” She frowned then, and looked down at herself. “This vessel seems to conform to modern ideas of beauty, if my studies are correct.” She cupped her breasts in her hands, as if measuring, and said, “I know that breast size can be subjective depending upon the admirer, but these seem to be of an average size, not too small, and not too big.” 

“Cas,” Dean choked, horrified, “Please stop.” 

“There's nothing wrong with it, Dean. Look, the nipples become erect when stimulated,” she said, tracing a finger over her breast.” She looked up, and cocked her head again, saying, “The stimulation is very pleasant.” 

“Oh, God, Cas, for the love of everything, just stop,” Dean begged, trying desperately to keep his eyes off her breasts and the nipples that poked out underneath the baggy dress shirt. It was a wasted effort; the image of Cas stroking her nipples through the shirt was burned into his retinas and he felt his jeans start to get uncomfortably snug in the crotch. 

“You are being surprisingly prudish about this, Dean,” she said, and he looked up at the rustle of cloth. She'd removed the trench coat draping it carefully over a chest of drawers, and was working at loosing the tie from around her neck. 

“The hell are you doing, Cas? Stop! I already said we're not doing it!”

“We both know this is the only way to break the spell,” Cas said calmly. She'd laid the tie on top of the coat, and started to unbutton the shirt, eyes locked on Dean's.

“You can't want this,” Dean whispered, unable to take his eyes away as each button undone revealed more creamy skin. 

Cas stopped at the third button down, and tilted her head again, looking at him consideringly. “Why wouldn't I? I had sex as a human. It was quite enjoyable. It was as a man, but I can't see how it would be any less so in this form than in my usual one.” 

Dean could see the swell of her breasts, framed in the open vee of undone buttons. He licked his lips, and managed to drag his eyes back up to her face. “Because it's you. Because it's me. Because it's us, and there are some doors that shouldn't be opened.” 

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what? Tell the truth?” 

“You deserve good things, Dean. You deserved to be saved from Hell. You deserve every and all happiness that comes you way. Why would this be any different from any woman you've picked up in a bar? You've taken those bits of happiness and been content. Why should this be anything more than that?”

Dean looked down at the ground, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn't care about them,” he says softly, so softly he's not sure if the angel heard. 

“I care about you too, Dean,” Cas answered, equally soft. 

He looks up, surprise and shock chasing across his face. “What?”

Cas's face is soft, and a little sad. “I care about you Dean. I always have. Why do you think I always, always, come when you call? Why I rebelled against my brothers and sisters? That was for you. Why I defied my orders to kill you. I couldn't do it, because I cared too much.” She took a deep breath, but kept her eyes on his. 

“Cas, I, I don't know what to say, here,” he stutters, because he's afraid, and he's not really sure what to think about it. He knew that they had a fucked up relationship, but still. 

“Dammit, Cas,” he sighed, and closed his eyes, rubbing a rueful hand on the back of his neck. “This is seriously fucked up.” 

“I know, Dean. I don't expect you to be attracted to me, despite this form.” 

There was a wealth of sorrow in those words, and Dean couldn't help but to look back at her. She had hunched in on herself, arms crossed like she was cold. Her head was down and thick, dark lashes made crescents on her cheeks. 

“Cas.” He spoke her name and she looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. He felt his heart break, just a little, to be the cause of those tears. 

“Yes, Dean?”

“I don't know what to say to that. I don't know what to feel about it, exactly. But I do care about you. You have to know that. And, for what it's worth. . .” he stopped, grinning ruefully at her, “the packaging is pretty damn nice at the moment, if I'm being honest.” 

“It's fine, Dean, you don't have to say things that you don't mean.” She looked away again, and his heart hurt to see it. 

“Fuck,” he swore, and crossed the short distance between them, gathering her in his arms and holding her close. 

She still smelled like Cas. That odd mixture of honey and vanilla that seemed to always be there. Jimmy Novak's vessel had been lean, but muscular, a runner's body; this one was slender but with curves that seemed to melt into him. She nestled into him, and sighed. He wasn't sure if it was a happy sigh or not, but he still felt like a dick. Dammit. 

He rested his chin on top of her hair, and breathed in her scent. “What, exactly, did the paper say, again?”

Cas's reply was muffled against his chest. 

“What?”

She pulled her head back, and looked up at him. Her eyes were still shiny, but her face was dry. “To escape the trap that has been sprung/the two of hearts must soon become one/only by the touch of flesh you'll see/can open the lock with love's key.”

“That is some seriously bad poetry,” Dean said, shaking his head. He sighed. “Dammit, Cas.”

“I'm sorry, Dean,” she said, looking down again, and starting to pull away.  
Dean stopped her and gently pulled her back against him. “It's not your fault.” He would have never held onto the real Cas like this, but he had to admit, it felt nice. It felt nice to touch and be touched. It made him realize how long it'd been since he'd been with anybody. 

“All right. Let's do this,” he said, pushing down any misgivings he might have. “We have to get out of here sometime, right?”

Cas looked up at him, considering. “Are you sure? I thought you were against this.” 

“I didn't say I didn't think this wasn't a disaster of Titanic proportions in the making, but I want out of this damn room, find whoever put us in it, and cut their fucking head off. And if we have to,” he stopped, shaking his head, “have sex, God, I can't believe those words just came outta my mouth, then we're having sex.” He looked down at her and scowled. “But not a word to Sammy.” 

“I understand, Dean.” 

“I mean it. This stays here, with us, and after we're back to normal we don't speak of it again.”

Cas looked down again, nodded, not looking back up. “Yes, Dean. If that is your wish.” 

Dean shoved down the guilt that washed over him. He knew he was hurting her feelings, but he wasn't ready to deal with that and he sure didn't want Sammy riding him over it if he found out. He'd make it up to Cas later, when he'd had time to think and process. He sighed, and looked over at the bed in the corner. “So, ah, I guess we should get to it, then.” He winced at how cold that sounded, and stammered, “I mean - “

“It's fine Dean.” She stepped away from him then, and turned and walked the few steps to the bed. Dean watched her, noting the way the shirt rose up high on her thighs when she climbed up on the bed. Again he felt the stirrings of arousal, and hated himself for it. He sighed again, and followed her to the bed. 

*** 

“This isn't necessary, Dean,” she said, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. 

“Just because this is happening doesn't mean it has to be a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am”. 

She looked up at him, giving him both the head tilt and the squint. “I don't get that reference.” 

Dean looked down at her, exasperated. “You don't wanna enjoy it?” 

“My enjoyment is not necessary to break the spell.” 

“What if it is?” 

She looked up at him at that. “What makes you say that?”

“Spells can usually tell when you try to cheat.” 

She sighed, and looked down again. “I'm trying to make this easier for you, Dean.”

Dean reached out and gently lifted her chin, so she had to look at him again. “Hey, it's fine. I may freak out about this later, but for now, I'm on board, and we're gonna be fine. You said it yourself, friends with benefits, right? We're friends, we care about each other, but if we don't make an effort to make it at least seem like we like each other I don't think it'll work.” 

“Dean, I think - “ whatever else she might have said was lost, because Dean's lips were touching hers, soft and warm. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she sighed into his mouth. 

I'm really doing this, I'm really kissing Cas, this is so fucked right now, Dean thought, but damn if it doesn't feel nice. Her hands crept up and cradled his face, and the kiss deepened, Dean's tongue gently reaching out to tease and play with hers. His own hands moved up, one to her cheek and the other to the back of her hair, wrapping the silky strands around his fingers and tugging gently. She moaned into his mouth, lost in the sensation, and leaned forward, the tips of her breasts brushing gently against his chest. He broke off from her mouth to plant soft kisses along the line of her jaw and down to the pulse in her throat. She tipped her head back to give him more access, and he nipped the skin above her collarbone, then kissed it the soothe the sting. He nosed aside the already loose fabric of the shirt, and thanked whatever deity was listening that she'd not re-buttoned the shirt back up earlier. He kissed her upper chest, leaving damp marks across her skin to blow cool air across. She shivered, caught in the sensation, eyes still closed. She whimpered when his hands left her face and hair and moved to the fourth button on her shirt, and the sound went straight to his already full groin. He made quick work of the rest of the buttons, pushing it off her shoulders, and then his hands were free to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing her already hardened nipples. He bent his head to her left breast, grazing her lightly with his teeth, while gently scraping her right nipple with his fingernail. He smiled to himself at her quick intake of breath. He laved her breast, alternating between sucking hard on the nipple and gently scraping it with his teeth, and repeating the sweet torture with the other breast. His free hand drug nails lightly up her side, making her gasp and wriggle. He looked down then, and groaned. Of course Cas went commando. He captured her mouth again, wrapping her legs around him as he pulled her onto his lap. He made sure she was positioned just right, and with hands firmly planted on her ass he ground himself against her.

“Dean!” she cried, breathy and little hoarse. 

“It's okay, Cas, I got you,” he whispered to her, sliding his hips slowly against her, loving the friction and heat he could feel through his jeans. 

“I need to touch you,” she said, looking up at him through her lashes, biting her lip as she slipped a hand under his shirt. 

Dean leaned back enough to pull his shirt over his head, and wrapped his arms around her again, the slow movement of his hips against hers never stopping. He sank back into her mouth, closing his eyes at the feel of her soft hands moving across his chest, his abs, his back. It'd been so long since he'd been touched. Just the feel of her hands was like a fucking miracle. He felt flushed, feverish; he had to get out of his jeans or he'd have a stroke. 

“Let me help you,” she whispered, her hands unsnapping the button on his jeans and unzipping his fly. Both of them groaned as he had to stop rubbing against her long enough to pull his jeans and underwear off. He'd no sooner than sat back down on the bed before she pushed him onto his back, kissing her way down his torso. Her mouth traced his anti-possession tattoo, tracing firm fingernails down the center of his abs. She lingered over every scar, every mark on his body, like they were worthy of love and affection. She looked up at him shyly, as if she was trying to see if he was enjoying the attention. “You are so beautiful,” she said, kissing gently over his hipbones. 

“Ah, God, Cas, please,” he scoffed, throwing his head back at the sensation of her teeth scraping gently against his skin, so close to his dick he could cry.

“I mean it, Dean. You are. One of my father's most perfect creations.” 

“Seriously Cas, I - “ he stopped suddenly, sucking in is breath at she closed her mouth of the head of his dick, all warmth and suction and her tongue, her fucking tongue was swirling around the head of his dick like she was eating an ice cream cone. “Dammit, Cas,” he groaned, and groaned again when she took the length of him down, down, pressing her lips against his groin before slowly pulling away, flicking her tongue against the bottom of his shaft. 

He was so close already. “Cas, honey, you've gotta – ah hell -” he half choked as she hummed, she fucking hummed against his dick and it felt so goddamn incredible, “I'm not gonna last, if you keep doing that.” 

She pulled her mouth off him, and he swore, his hips arching back towards her mouth like it was their damn job. “Are you not enjoying this, Dean?” 

“Fuck yes, I'm enjoying it,” he growled, pulling her up and flipping them over so that she was on bottom. “But we're nowhere near done yet.” 

He kissed her again, hard this time, and she kissed him back just as fiercely as he ground his achingly hard dick against her soft mound. He broke away from her mouth with reluctance, but he wanted to return the favor and began kissing his way down her torso, running feather light touches down her sides to make her squirm. He settled himself between her legs, bending her knees up and setting her heels on the mattress, so that she was open to him. Even here, at her core, the honey and vanilla scent was everywhere, and it drove him crazy. He couldn't wait to see if she tasted as sweet. He licked her slowly, from top to bottom, dragging his tongue flat across her like licking a lollipop. He smiled to himself at her quick intake of breath, the way she fisted her hands in his hair. He wrapped one hand around her thigh, anchoring her in place, as he lazily lapped at her like a cat with cream. He used his other hand to gently probe inside, feeling her slick walls clench around his finger. “Fuck, Cas, you're so tight,” he growled, his dick throbbing at the thought of how she would feel around him. 

“Dean, please,” she gasped, as he swirled his tongue around her nub again, “I'm going to. . “

“Let it happen, baby, you can do it. Come for me,” he said, easing another finger inside her slick heat and making a 'come along' motion inside her, tapping that special spot deep inside. 

Her hands knotted in his hair almost painfully as she came, drenching his hand. She was flushed, breathing hard, as she flopped back against the pillows, boneless. 

He wasted no time then, pulling her close and kissing her gently, letting her taste herself on his mouth. He went slow, easing inside her, trying to give her time to adjust. She was so, so tight. It felt indescribably good, all that wet heat surround him. Slowly, he started to move, almost groaning when she grabbed his ass to pull him closer, as if she thought he was leaving forever. 

“Harder,” she whispered, arching her hips against him.

He leaned down, capturing her mouth again, as he began to thrust, his hands under her ass to find that perfect angle that would make her pant. He knew he found it when she broke off the kiss with a moan, her head lolling back on her shoulders. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she began to make breathy little cries with each thrust, and fuck, if that wasn't hot. Watching her squirm underneath him, knowing that he was making her feel good. He felt himself getting close again, and he wanted her to go with him this time. He reached between their bodies and swirled his fingertip against the most sensitive part of her, and she cried out, and the feel of her release all around him brought his own with a hoarse cry. 

Both of them were panting, as he rolled off to her side. She snuggled up to him, cheek against his chest and one leg draped across his. He was exhausted suddenly, and before everything went dark, he thought heard her whisper, “I love you, Dean.” 

*** 

“Dean? Dean! Can you hear me?” 

Dean groaned, fluttering his eyes open. It took a minute to focus, but Sam was there, a worried look creasing his face. “Yeah, Sammy, I can hear you.” 

He was looked around. The bedroom they'd been trapped in was gone; they were back in the house, still upstairs from the looks of it. He frowned, looking around, calling, “Cas?”

“He's over there Dean, but ah, Dean, there's something I should tell you,” Sammy said, but before Sam could finish he saw him. Or rather her. He was relieved to see that she was fully clothed; both of them were, as if nothing had happened. Except for Cas was still female. “The hell?” he said, more to himself than to Sam. He could see her chest rise and fall, so she was breathing, but she didn't seem to be awake. He started crawling over toward her. 

“I don't know, Dean, I mean, I'm pretty sure it's Cas, but what the hell happened to you guys? When I got here, I called and searched, and I was getting ready to search outside when I heard a thump upstairs. When I came back up, you guys were in here, but you weren't when I searched a few minutes before.” 

“I've no idea, Sammy,” he replied, looking down at Cas. “Cas, buddy, wake up,” he said, shaking her shoulder gently. 

Big blue eyes snapped open, and bored into his. “Dean, I feel strange.” She sat up abruptly, and looked down at herself. “Dean, I'm still in this form, I don't understand.”

“Still in this form?” Sam asked, frowning. 

“Later, Sammy,” Dean said, cutting his brother an 'ask right now and I'll kill you' look. “Yeah, I see that, Cas.” He stood and helped Cas to her feet, and then chuckled when she had to make a grab for her pants. 

Cas shot him a sour look. “I told you they were too big now,” and made a move to step out of them again. 

Both Dean's and Sam's eyes got wide, and Dean grabbed her hands, stopping her. “No, ah, leave the pants on, just hang on to them for now and we'll get you something else to wear.” 

“But they don't fit, Dean.” 

“Yeah, we can see that, Cas, but walking around without pants on is frowned upon,” he replied, glaring at Sam, who'd started to snicker. At Dean's glare he immediately coughed and tried to school his face into something more appropriate. 

“So, I'll uh, be in the car,” he said, and went headed back downstairs, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“I don't understand why the spell only half worked, Dean,” Cas said, trying to hold onto her pants. The shoes were a hopeless endeavor, and Dean carried them for her so she could focus on getting down the stairs without tripping over the excess fabric. 

“I don't either, Cas, but we'll figure it out, okay? I promise you, we'll fix it.” 

By the time they got to the Impala, the sun was starting to rise. “Jesus, Sammy, how long were we in there?”

“A couple of hours, I guess? I'd been looking for you for about an hour before you came back from wherever you were. What happened? Did you find out what was causing it?”

“No, but while we were checking out the upstairs, we fell into some sort of spell,” Dean answered, sliding behind the wheel. 

“Spell? Is that what happened to Cas?”

“I awoke in this form,” Cas answered from the backseat, “and we had to -” 

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean yelled, glaring at him in the rear view mirror. 

Cas sank back into the seat, face falling. Dean felt Sam giving him the side eye, and he felt his face flame but knew he'd need Sam's help to figure out how to help Cas. Plus there was that big heaping pile of guilt that just fell on him for yelling at Cas. He sighed, and kept his eyes resolutely on the road. “We had to, ah, be umm,” he broke off, his jaw clenched. 

“Have sex?” his brother supplied helpfully, with a smile, like he thought it was a joke.

At the tense silence that fell, in which neither Dean or the angel would look at him, he gave a half laugh, saying, “Seriously? You guys had sex?”

Dean glared at him, cheekbones still red, “Yes, smart ass, we had sex. It was the only way to break the spell.” 

“How did you know that'd work?” Sam, to his credit, was trying hard not to laugh. 

“We had a cheat sheet,” Dean ground out between clenched teeth. 

From the backseat, Cas recited the spell for Sam, “To escape the trap that has been sprung/the two of hearts must soon become one/only by the touch of flesh you'll see/can open the lock with love's key.”

Sober now, Sam said, “That sounds oddly specific.” 

“But it doesn't explain why I'm still female,” Cas said. 

“We'll do some research when we get back to the bunker, see what we can come up with,” Sam said, looking back at Cas. “We'll figure it out, we'll get you back.” 

“See, Cas, I told you, we'll fix it,” Dean said. He looked at the clock, and sighed. Two hours, and they'd be home. The thing was, he was more worried about how this had changed things, because they'd crossed a line. Sure, they'd escaped the room, but at what cost?


	2. Chapter 2

Bored and frustrated, Dean threw the book he'd been leafing through onto the table in the war room. “This is feelin' pretty damn pointless,” he grumped, rubbing his dry, aching eyes. 

“There has to be an answer, Dean, we just have to find it,” Sam answered, leafing through his own dusty tome. 

“We've been looking for over a week, Sammy, and it's like the answer's just not there to be found.” 

Sighing, Sam ran a hand through his hair and stood, stretching. “I'm going to check the web again, there's got to be something I've missed.” He stopped, started to speak, and hesitated. 

“Spit it out, Sam,” Dean groused, taking a sip of coffee gone cold and making a face. 

“I know how you feel about witches, but - “

“Damn, right, you know how I feel about witches. We've had this argument, it's not happening.”

“Dean, you said yourself it's a spell. How do we know it wasn't a witch? Surely a witch could at least tell us what went wrong, and maybe how to fix it.” 

“Because I haven't met a witch who I didn't either had to gank or who tried to gank me!” Dean snarled, glaring at his not-so-little brother. 

“Fine, fine,” Sam said, shaking his head and holding his hands up in surrender. He shook his head, and then cleared his throat meaningfully. “Hi, Cas, how're you feeling?”

Dean jerked and slopped coffee all over his chest and the table. He'd managed to miss the pile of books, but just barely. “Dammit.” 

Cas stepped fully into the room, dressed in the cheap sweatpants and tee shirt they'd picked up at Walmart. Her face was wary, like a cornered animal. She held a stack of books close to her chest, looking for all the world like a college coed prepping for finals. Her hair was messy, disheveled, as always, but Dean couldn't help but notice the way the sweats and tee hugged her curves. And promptly wanted to slap himself for looking. 

“I don't believe that a witch would be the answer to our problem,” she murmured, looking from brother to brother. “I believe this is older than that, and unless the witch you find to speak to is quite ancient, I don't believe they would be of much help.” 

“See, even Cas thinks it's not a good idea,” Dean smirked. 

“All right, it was just an idea,” Sam sighed, and flopped back down into his chair, pulling his laptop to him and waking it up. 

“It's not that it's a bad idea, Dean, it's just that the likelihood of finding one who would have the necessary knowledge is -”

“Enough, both of you, it's not happening, end of story.” Dean snarled. 

Cas frowned at Dean, still clutching her books. “Dean, there's no need to be rude.” 

“I just don't feel like wasting our time on a dead end,” he complained, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring at Sam. 

“You can't know it's a dead end until we try, Dean!”

Cas looked from one brother to the other, as they glared at each other. “I don't think we need a witch.”

“What do you mean, Cas?” Sam asked, a slight frown creasing his face. 

“I think the answer is still with the spell itself. I think we somehow didn't complete all the requirements of the spell. It was enough to free us from the room, but not enough to change me back.”

Dean buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Seriously, I don't know how else to interpret 'you have to bone to escape', Cas,” 

Sam made a face and shuddered, saying, “Okay, don't ever say 'bone' and 'escape' in the same sentence, please. Say you're right, Cas,” he frowned, looking down at the scrap of paper he'd had her write the lines on, “So where do we start deconstructing this thing?” 

“I would imagine the wording itself. Spells aren't always complex, but they have a fixed set of rules, of how things work, much like science. Certain spells require certain ingredients, others require certain words to be spoken. It would seem like this one has those kind of requirements, but for whatever reason we didn't meet them all.” 

“All right, so looking at this first line, then - “ To escape the trap that has been sprung/the two of hearts must soon become one.” Sam looked up at Cas and Dean, who hadn't taken his hands from his face. “In it's most simplistic form, you could infer that it's about sex, right?” When Cas nodded and Dean groaned again, he rolled his eyes and continued. “But what if it's about more than sex?” 

“The next line says putting a key in a lock, Sammy, it's pretty cut and dried. Lousy poetry, but not that deep.” Dean said, his hands still covering his face. 

“But what if that's what we're meant to think? I mean, you guys did have, well, you know,” Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably, “and that was enough to spring you. But what if there's more to it? What if, what if it's about love?”

“Love?” 

“Yes, Dean, love.” 

Dean looked up at that, and paled, swallowing hard. “I don't believe that,” he said, shaking his head. “It can't be that simple.” 

“Love is a powerful force, Dean,” Cas said looking down at her lap. 

“Yeah, no, Cas, I care about you, but you're like our broth-” he stopped, had the grace to shoot Cas an embarrassed look, and continued, “sister.” 

“Love isn't always about the physical, Dean,” Cas frowned. 

“I know that, but love and sex aren't usually platonic,” he countered. “You can have a platonic love, and you can have friendly sex, but not both.” 

“Says who?” Sam interjected, looking at both of them. 

“You did say before we had sex that we could be 'friends with benefits', Dean. Isn't that the definition of platonic sex?” 

“Dammit, Cas, seriously, stop talking,” he groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. 

“But I meant it when I said-”

“Okay, I need some air,” Dean announced loudly, standing up in a rush and heading toward the door of the bunker, leaving Cas and Sam to gape at him in astonishment. 

***

Cas was sitting cross-legged on her bed, reading when the knock sounded on her door. “Come in,” she called, not looking up from the page. 

“Cas, buddy, you doing okay?” Sam's eyes were soft, concerned. “I know Dean can be an asshole, but even for him this is pretty out there.” 

“I'm fine, Sam,” she replied, eyes still on the page. 

“You don't seem fine, Cas,” he said, leaning across the door frame and crossing one booted foot over the other. 

“Isn't that what humans say when they don't wish to converse? I'm fine? Or is is just a female expression?” she replied, still refusing to look up. 

Sam sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair, and stepped fully into the room. “Cas, if you need to talk, I'm here for you, anything you need.” 

“Thank you Sam, but I have everything I need at the moment.”

“Can you at least look at me? Look at me, and I'll leave.” 

Cas sighed, setting aside her book, rubbed her nose before looking up at Sam. Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears, magnifying the blue and giving them a false sparkle. There was a slight flush, but Sam couldn't tell if it was from the near tears or something else. Her normal bedhead was messier than usual, as if she'd been running her hands through it again and again. Sam's heart gave a painful thump to see his friend hurting, and without thinking he crouched down beside her bed, and gathered her in his arms. He felt rather than heard her choked sob, but he could feel her shake from trying to keep silent. 

“I hate this,” she mumbled, her words muffled by his chest.

“Hate what?” 

“Feeling like this, being in this form, just feeling so damn wrong!” she shouted, beating a fist into his chest. “I'm an angel of the Lord, dammit! I should be above such petty, human things, but I can't, I don't,” she gasped, banging her forehead against his chest. 

“Shh, it's okay, Cas, whatever it is, we'll figure it out,” Sam soothed, rubbing small circles on her back. 

Cas pulled back and looked into his eyes, and Sam felt his heart tug at the raw emotion he saw there; the hurt, the confusion, and the heartbreak. “You love him, don't you,” he said, stating it as a fact. 

Miserable, Cas pulled away and wiped at her face, dashing away the twin lines of tears that started to run down her cheeks. “Of course not, Dean Winchester is my friend, and while we have a profound bond, that's all it is,” she whispered, not looking at him. 

“I think we both know that's a lot of crap, and why haven't you told him?”

“Told him? For what? So he can reject me because of some outdated notion of what love and sexuality is? For now, it's acceptable that we slept together; I'm in this body, and it was a means to an end. But that's all.” She sniffed, and angrily scrubbed her hands over her face. “I don't have it in me to be rejected like that,” she said, softly. 

“Look, I love him, he's my brother, and he's a lot of things. But he's loyal. Hard headed and stubborn, but loyal. I don't know if he even knows what he feels for you. But I know how devastated he's been every time you left, or vanished. I know how much it cut him up inside when you were gone. He may not be able to admit it to himself, but he does care about you. A lot.” Sam pulled her close again, resting his chin on her hair. 

“Thank you Sam,” she said, resting her cheek against his chest. “You're a good friend.” 

“Like I said, Cas, we'll figure it out,” Sam said, placing a brotherly kiss on her forehead.

“Son of a bitch.” 

Sam and Cas sprang apart. Dean was standing in the door, glaring at both of them. 

“Dean, this isn't what it looks like,” Sam answered, standing up and holding out a hand toward his brother. “Cas was just upset and I. . .”

Whatever else he was about to say was cut off by Dean's fist to his face, knocking him to the floor. “Dammit, Dean, seriously?” he spat, sitting up from his sprawl and rubbing his jaw. 

“Dean, we weren't doing anything,” Cas said, kneeling on the bed, her hands in her lap.

“Not yet, you weren't. What, you figured because I wasn't puttin' out that you'd try the other brother on for size?” 

“Don't be crude, Dean, that's not what this was about,” Cas replied, frowning while she stood up from the bed to help Sam to his feet. 

“Dude, seriously, she was upset, I was just trying to help, and if you weren't such an ass, you would never have left in the first place!”

“I'm gone for an hour, and come back and find you two all over each other? Gee, Sam, I didn't know you were into sloppy seconds,” he spat, fury etched into every line on his face. 

“Cas was upset, Dean, that's all this was.”

“Dean, you have no right-,” Cas started, but Dean cut her off. 

“No right? I have every damn right in the world. You started this thing with me, it'll end with me. Just because we didn't get it right the first time doesn't mean you go off and shag whoever's handy.”

Cas stood, her face pale with anger. “Dean, you were the one who got upset and left. I've done everything you've ever asked me to do, I've always, ALWAYS come when you called. I've given up so much for you, Dean, you and Sam, and I never regretted it, no matter the cost to myself. But you're so afraid of yourself, that you shut down every time things get emotional, every time you have to take a good hard look at yourself. It's not my fault, or Sam's fault, that you have a problem with how you feel about me.” 

Dean looked as if he'd been slapped. “I. . I don't have a problem with how I feel about you. You're my friend, you're family,” he stammered.

Cas looked at Sam. “Can you give us some privacy, Sam? I think your brother and I need to talk.” 

“Sure, Cas, whatever you need,” he said, giving Dean the side-eye, before shaking his head and easing past Dean and out the door, closing it behind him. 

“What, we're going to have our chick flick moment now? Is that what this is?”

“If that's what you want to call it, then yes, Dean, we are.” Cas pinning him with a steely glare.

Dean frowned at her, then rubbed the back of his neck and flapped his hand at her in a 'go on' gesture. 

“What exactly is going on here, Dean?”

“What do you mean?”

“The jealousy, Dean. You've always maintained that we were friends, that we were family, but nothing more. So why the jealousy now? You said, we'd be friends with benefits. That it was a one and done. So what should it matter to you, even if I did want to sleep with Sam?”

Dean stepped toward her, but Cas stood her ground, looking up at him. “Because, dammit. Just because you slept with me doesn't mean you sleep with Sam too.” 

“I never wanted to sleep with Sam, you dumbass! The only person I've wanted to sleep with is you!”

Dean was speechless for a moment. “You, wait, what?”

“You heard me, Dean,” Cas spat, glaring at him with her arms crossed. 

“Since when? Since the spell and the house?”

“No, you dumbass, since I met you!”

“But, Cas, you were, you were a guy then,” Dean said weakly, backing up as Cas advanced on him. 

“Just because the outer parts of me changed doesn't mean the inner parts did,” Cas warned, poking a finger into his chest. “And just because I'm a female now doesn't change how things are between us.” 

“There's nothing between us, Cas, other than trying to get you back to normal,” Dean sputtered, backing up against the door. 

Cas's eyes narrowed, and she advanced until she could almost touch Dean just by breathing. “I know you're a compulsive liar, that it's part of the job, but I never thought you would lie to yourself as badly as you are right now.” 

Dean's breath was hitching in his chest, and his eyes were wide with panic. “Cas, I don't know what you're talking about.” 

Cas stood absolutely still, looking up at him, head canted to one side and squinting at him. Frowning, she took a step back. “Get out.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me, Dean, get out.” 

Dean swallowed hard, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. “Cas, I'm sorry, I -”

She held her hand up, refusing to look at him. “I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear anything else you have to say right now. Get out of my room.” 

Dean started to say something, but he looked at Cas again, who still refused to look at him. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and turned toward the door. He looked back again at Cas, his hand on the doorknob. But she still refused to look at him, so he sighed again, and opened the door and stepped out into the hall, closing the door softly behind him. 

 

Dean swore softly to himself, and crossed the hall to his own room. He slammed his door shut. He shouldn't feel bad, dammit. He didn't do anything wrong. Did he? He started to pace back and forth in front of his bed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He really couldn't understand why it affected him so badly, seeing Sam and Cas. He knew, he knew it was innocent. He'd just felt so angry, so. . .jealous. Fuck, he was jealous. Why was he jealous? Yes, they'd had sex. He'd not been too thrilled about it at first, mostly because it opened up a whole can of mental worms he wasn't sure he wanted to deal with. Second, because he knew that it would change everything. He'd tried to act like things wouldn't change, that it was just sex, but he'd known then that he was lying to himself. Cas was just. . .Cas. His friend, his best friend, really. But there'd always been something else there. He'd always teased Cas about personal space, about the way he'd looked at him, but honestly, a part of him had always been flattered, too. 

He'd never really thought about guys that way; not really. There were some things he'd done for money when he and Sam were kids that he's not proud of, but he'd considered that a do-or-die situation. John would mean to be gone for just a few days, and leave enough money for groceries or rent for that long. But then days would turn into weeks, and the money would run out. So Dean had found ways to make sure Sammy got to eat and kept a roof over his head. Hustling pool worked for awhile, until the regulars got too used to seeing him and wouldn't play anymore. So he'd done what he'd had to. He'd always known he was good looking, and that there were men that would pay for the company of a good looking man. He'd told himself that he wasn't doing the touching, and it was easy to think of women when he'd needed to, so his heterosexuality was still intact. When he met Cas, it'd been both scary and awesome at the same time. He'd felt like he'd been hit by lightning. And over the months and years, their relationship had been through a lot of ups and downs, but they were family. Truthfully, though, there were times he'd caught himself. Caught himself looking at Cas' lips, and wondering what they'd feel like against his. Caught himself itching to touch his hair, to feel that perpetual five o'clock shadow. He tried to deflect it, to rationalize it away, like 'aw, man, I know it's been too long if Cas is starting to look good'. 

Everything changed when they killed Dick Roman and got sent to purgatory. When Cas had left him, he'd been devastated. He'd mowed through a tidal wave of monsters, searched for a year, to find him. All the while, praying, calling for his angel, hoping against hope that he'd find him alive. When he'd finally found him, by that stream, it was like his heart stopped beating. When he'd hugged him, he'd closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of him in his arms. It was like a part of him he'd never known was missing was home. Then, to lose him again, there at the portal. It'd broken his heart, and he'd had a hard time dealing with the loss and hiding it from Sam. Even when he'd come back from purgatory, even when they found out the angels were manipulating him, he'd still been so glad, so fucking glad to see him. Sending him away after he fell had been the hardest damn decision of his life. Even though he did it for Sammy, he'd hated himself for doing it. All he'd wanted was to beg him to stay and not leave him again. 

Then they'd went to that house. Thought it'd be a simple salt-n-burn, easy peasy. Ending up trapped in that room, and finding Cas suddenly a woman. It just seemed like a really convenient way to try and get Cas out of his system without making him feel like he'd compromised himself. But it hadn't. He still thought about her. How she'd responded, how she felt underneath him. Watching her come apart in his arms. He still wanted her, but at the same time, he wanted his Cas. The pain in the ass, clueless angel of the lord, with his overcoat and tie always askew. He wanted the Cas with the just-been-fucked hair, and the five o'clock shadow. If he was really, really honest, he wanted to see his Cas come apart, to hear that silk-over-gravel voice call his name. He cursed again, and dropped down on the foot of his bed, his head in his hands. 

He rubbed his face, hard, and his chest felt tight, raw. It hurt to breathe, suddenly, and the room seemed too small. Escape was suddenly all he could think about; getting space to breathe, to think. Without second guessing himself, he grabbed a duffel from his closet and started stuffing clothes and toiletries inside. He eased his door open gently, poking his head out to make sure the coast was clear. Seeing no one, he eased his door shut quietly, and headed toward his baby and the open road.


	3. Chapter 3

He'd driven for hours. He hadn't had a specific destination in mind, he'd just wanted the feeling of freedom from being behind the wheel. He'd sang along to his tunes, drumming along on his steering wheel, and relished the utter emptiness of his mind. It felt nice to not have to worry about the next big bad, to ignore his problems, and enjoy the thrum of his tires on the asphalt. He drove until he got tired, and found a hotel to crash in. He'd stopped at a handy diner and gotten a cheeseburger and fries, and a slice of apple pie to go. His next stop was a liquor store, with a six pack of beer and a bottle of whiskey completing his plans for the evening. He got back to his room, changed into track pants and a tee shirt, and spread his bounty around him and picked up the TV remote, looking for something to watch. He found a rerun of Dr. Sexy, and smiled. Perfect. 

It wasn't until much, much later, when the beer was gone and he'd started on the whiskey, that he thought to check his phone. He wasn't really surprised to see several missed calls and texts from Sam, but then he saw he had texts from Cas, too. That made him grimace, a wash of guilt rushing through him. He sighed, scrubbed a hand over his face, and opened up the first message from Sam. 

_Dean, what the hell man? Where did you go? Answer your phone dammit._

_Dean, you're being childish. Seriously, man, you know there was nothing going on. You're being a dick._

_Goddammit, Dean, answer your fucking phone. This isn't funny anymore, at least tell me where you are and that you're not dead in a ditch somewhere._

_YOU ARE A SELFISH MOTHERFUCKER. CAS IS SOBBING, FULL ON SOBBING IN HER ROOM. FIX IT, NOW, OR SO HELP ME I WILL END YOU._

That one was from about two hours ago, and made him cringe. He knew Sam was right, and he knew that he'd hurt Cas. Sighing, he opened up the first message from Cas. 

**Dean, you're being ridiculous, and your actions toward your brother were abhorrent. I'm so very angry with you right now. I believe the phrase, “get the stick out of your ass” is applicable here, so please remove it posthaste and call your brother.**

**You are an asshole. (followed by a poop emoji, which made Dean smile in spite of himself.)**

**The message sent about an hour ago, was short and simple. We need to talk. Please.**

And this one, sent ten minutes ago: **I'm sorry for pushing you away. I know of your inherent dislike for what you call “chick flick” moments. I will make arrangements to stay elsewhere, and will contact you when I have left the bunker so that you may return. I realize that you have left because of me, and I have no wish to cause such a rift between you and Sam, or to make you feel discomfort in your own home. So I will leave, and hope you can forgive me.**

“Fuck,” he breathed, feeling a real sense of panic. Swiftly typing, he tapped out a message to Cas, hoping he wasn't too late. 

**_Cas, wait, please don't leave. It's your home too, dammit._ **

He didn't have to wait long for a reply. 

**Dean, it's obvious that you find my company uncomfortable right now. I will be fine. I should have my things packed up and be gone in about an hour or so.**

**_Seriously, Cas, don't. Please. I'm sorry, I know I was a major dick to you, and to Sam. I just need to get my shit straight. That's why I left. Please, don't leave._ **

**Why didn't you answer me before? And why should I stay, you either push me away or you get angry with me. I can't win with you, Dean.**

**_I had my phone turned off. I needed time to think. I didn't get any of your messages until just now, but I answered you as soon as I saw it._ He paused, swallowing hard, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, before adding, _ **I'm sorry.**_**

**I don't want to be the cause of strife between you and Sam.**

_You aren't, I'm the problem, not you. I fuck up everything I touch, haven't you figured that out by now?_

**That's not true, Dean.**

_**It is, Cas, I ruin everything. Sam can probably vouch for that right now. Dean swallowed hard again, rubbing his face hard with his free hand.**_

**Why do you always do that to yourself? I asked you once why you didn't believe you deserved to be saved. If anyone on this Earth has a right to be happy, it would be you, Dean. But you have to believe that you deserve good things, Dean, because you do. You deserve every happiness, every good thing that can come your way. You have to stop pushing away the people who care for you.**

He took a deep breath, tapping his phone against his lower lip. He owed Cas some kind of an explanation for his behavior, he knew that. Maybe it would be easier this way. To make his confession, without having to look into those bottomless blue eyes, and watch them turn against him. So he wouldn't have to see Cas look at him with disgust, turning away. He closed his eyes briefly, and began to type again. 

**_Everyone I've cared for has left, Cas. They've died, or I've gotten them killed. Bobby, Jo, Ellen. Hell, even Lisa was afraid of me, at the end. And I couldn't blame her for wanting out. I'm a black hole that sucks everything in around me and ruins it. You and Sam, you're the only family I've got left. And one day, I know you both will leave me too. One way or the other, everyone leaves._ **

**That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, Dean. Bobby, Jo, and Ellen, yes, their deaths were unfortunate. But they gave their lives for something greater than themselves, and that was a choice that they made. Lisa was a coward, who chose comfort and safety over something special. I will also point out that your black hole comment is both a fallacy and theoretically impossible. Furthermore, I wish to point out the hundreds, if not thousands, of lives you and Sam have saved, from all the cases you've worked over the years. That's not counting the lives of billions that you've saved, each time you've saved the world, whether it be from stopping the apocalypse to stopping the leviathans. You matter, Dean. I wish you could see yourself as I do.**

**_I wish I could too, Cas. But I'm not the person you think I am. People like me aren't meant for good things._**

**Then I'll have to just keep telling you until you believe it, Dean. Please, come home. I miss you.**

_**I miss you too, Cas. I'll be home soon, okay? I promise. And we'll talk. I can't promise I won't be a dick, or that I won't be weird about it, but I promise to try.**_

**I'm holding you to that, Dean. And Sam said to tell you you're still a dick, by the way, and that it'd be nice if you'd answer other people's texts too.**

Dean chuckled, feeling a little lighter, and replied, **_Tell him he needs to quit whining like a bitch, I can only text one person at a time. He's lower on the totem pole._**

**I don't understand that reference. He is physically taller than both of us, shouldn't he be at the top? Sam just explained it to me. He said to tell you bullshit, and to take your totem pole and “shove it where the sun don't shine”. I apologize for the improper contraction, but he was insistent that I send it just that way.**

He laughed, then, hearing those words in Cas' deep voice and seeing his frown in his mind's eye. 

**_Goodnight, both of you. I'll be home tomorrow._ **

**Goodnight, Dean.**

A few minutes later, another text from Sam. _Thank you._

**_For what?_**

_She was ready to leave, Dean. Nothing I could say would stop her. You're still a selfish motherfucker, by the way._

Dean smiled ruefully, shaking his head. **_Yeah, I know. But takes one to know one, bitch._**

_Jerk. See you tomorrow. Drive safe._

With a deep sigh he dug his charger out of his bag and plugged up his phone, setting the alarm to wake him in the morning. He stretched out on his bed with a sigh, trying to get comfortable on the slightly lumpy mattress, thinking wistfully of his memory foam mattress at home. He turned out the light, but sleep refused to come. All he could see was Cas' face, the hurt, the anger, and something twisted deep in his gut, knowing that he'd put that there. That he'd been the one to make him feel that way. Shit, he thought, her, get the pronoun right. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he shifted again on the lumpy mattress, trying to find a spot that didn't feel like springs were digging into his spine. He didn't know what he would say to Cas, either. It didn't help that he royally, seriously, sucked at talking about this kind of stuff. It was easy to tell him that they were family, that he needed him. It was easy to be willing to sacrifice himself for him, or for Sammy; he'd been doing that since forever, and knew that he always would. He chuckled slightly to himself, remembering the first time he saw Cas, in that ramshackle barn. He and Bobby had been scared shitless, and Cas had just strolled in, looking for all the world like a wayward CPA, but then he spoke. That throaty growl was both powerful and scary as shit, at least at first. And then Dean had to do the stupid thing and try to stab him with Ruby's knife. He'd about pissed himself when Cas had done nothing more than look down at it, back up at him, and casually yank it out of his chest like it was nothing more than a piece of lint off his stupid trench coat. 

He thought about how scary and fucking infinite Cas had seemed in those early days. Like he had all the answers and made Dean feel so small and insignificant. But gradually, everything changed. He'd changed, mostly because of Dean, thinking for himself and being able to throw off the yoke of blind obedience to Heaven. His mind drifted again, thinking of the time he'd been so determined to get Cas laid, and they'd gotten chased out of that whorehouse. Dean had laughed so hard, and poor Cas hadn't understood what was so funny. He thought of all the times he'd made a movie reference and Cas giving him that head tilt, squinty eyed look, even uttering Dean's favorite phrase, “I don't understand that reference.” He smiled, picturing the scene in his mind eye, feeling something warm blossom in his chest. Then there was his penchant for using air quotes, like when he said, “my people skills are rusty”, which still made Dean snicker to remember. So many times he'd look up, and see Cas just giving him that look, that always made him feel uncomfortable, like he was looking into his very soul. His habit of standing just a little too close, which after a while had seemed less weird and just something Cas did. 

He thought of what Cas had said, about lying to himself. What did he really feel about the angel? He remembered that flash of white-hot jealousy that had spiked through him, when he'd seen Cas and Sam on his, no, her, bed. He thought of how panic had flooded through him at the thought of going back to the bunker and finding Cas gone. He knew that all the signs were pointing to his feelings being deeper than he originally thought, but he still shied away from even thinking the words. He wasn't ready for that, not yet. But he could admit that what he felt for Cas was complicated, messy, and a hell of a lot more than just friendship, or brotherly affection like he felt for Sam. Spell or not, he'd definitely have drawn the line if it'd been Sammy in that room with him instead of Cas. Fuck, he hadn't even tried very hard to say no, once they'd realized what they'd have to do to get out of that room. What did that say about him? He'd seen the easy out for what it was, and he took it. 

He sighed, and rolled over on his side, punching the pillow for good measure. Would he still have done it if it hadn't made Cas into a woman? Would they still have had sex, knowing that it would change everything? Dean knew that his line about friends with benefits was total shit, and that it would have repercussions, but he'd been selfish and went ahead anyway. He'd wanted to have some part of Cas so badly, and everything just gave him the perfect excuse to have it. He'd just lied to himself, telling himself that one time would be enough, enough to see if reality could compare to his secret fantasies and desires. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't right, because while the inner part was the same, the outer wasn't his Cas. 

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself. His heart started beating faster in his chest, and he felt like he couldn't get enough air. He wanted Cas. Cas, with his stupid tie that matched those bottomless blue eyes, and the suit and trench coat that was at least a size too big and never fit right. Cas with his permanent five o'clock shadow and his heart in his eyes. The angel who always came when he called, and had always been willing to do anything and everything for him. Who never said it aloud, but said it in all his actions. Who left him in Purgatory, not because he didn't want to be with him, but to keep him safe from the monsters. Who took on Sam's mental anguish after the wall Death put up came crumbling down, because he knew how much Sam meant to Dean, even though it left him catatonic. In everything he'd done, he'd been showing Dean how he felt. If that wasn't the very definition of love, Dean didn't know what was. He sat up abruptly, scrubbing both hands roughly over his face. Fuck, Cas loved him, had said it, in all his words and actions. And Dean was pretty sure he loved him too, even if he didn't know if he could say the words out loud. 

He looked over at the clock, and cursed again. It was after three am now, but if he left now he could be back at the bunker for breakfast. There was very little chance of getting any sleep now, with thoughts of what he would say to Cas weighing so heavy. He sighed, and turned the bedside lamp on, before starting to gather his things to make the trek back home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to post chapters 3 and 4 since 3 was kinda short. (Although, to be fair, my chapters are kinda long, and I'd say 3 was a normal length chapter? No clue, so I'm just going with it.) Enjoy! As always, comments are welcome. :)

He'd made it about halfway before he had to pull off. He'd started nodding off at the wheel, and while crashing before he could get back to the bunker might save himself from himself, he just couldn't commit such sacrilege to his Baby. So he'd found a little side road off the interstate, and pulled into a small picnic area. His eyes felt like sandpaper as he put her in park, rubbing a rough hand over his face as he cut off the engine. He slumped down in the driver's seat, trying to debate if he wanted to expend the energy to crawl into the backseat or just collapse across the front bench. He'd closed his eyes briefly, and tilted his head back, enjoying the warm sun on his face. 

“You look like shit, Dean-o,” came an overly chipper sounding voice to his right. 

Hunter reflexes kicking in, he had the gun drawn and cocked before his eyes opened and his head turned. “Holy fuck,” he breathed, gun still steady, but his mouth dropping open. “You're supposed to be dead.” 

“Psh, you Winchesters are living proof that nothing stays dead for long. I am, however, happy to say that the rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated,” Gabriel smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Now, seriously, is that any way to greet an old friend?” His smile faded slightly as he got a face full of holy water from the flask in Dean's other hand. “Seriously? Holy water? What's next, salt-” he started sputtering, after getting a face full of rock salt. “All right, I get it, you don't believe me, and I don't blame you,” he said, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “Lemme guess, silver knife next, right?” He slowly extended his left hand toward Dean, who looked at it warily. “Go ahead if it'll make you feel better.” 

Dean slowly put the gun down, pulling out a small silver pocket knife from another coat pocket and making a small cut on the proffered hand. “Okay, so not a shifter, or a demon. How do I know you're actually you?” 

“What, my passing your tests with flying colors wasn't enough? I'm wounded, Dean my lad, I really am.” At Dean's sullen expression, Gabriel sighed dramatically and huffed, “Fine.” He snapped his fingers, and both men were suddenly standing on an empty beach, with gentle ocean waves lapping at the shore. 

“The hell? Where are we?” 

“Oh, just some little piece of rock off the coast of Tahiti. No people around to see us pop in and out, if that's what you're wondering,” Gabriel snickered, before snapping his fingers again, placing them both back in the Impala. 

“Fine, I get it. Now cut the crap, Gabriel. What do you want?” he growled, putting his gun away. 

“Dean, Dean, Dean. I'm trying to help you. What can I say, I'm a giver!” he cackled, pulling a sucker from his pocket, unwrapping it, and popping it in his mouth. 

“Help me with what?” Dean frowned.

“Your love life, obviously. You're too damn clueless to do anything with it on your own,” Gabriel returned, swirling the sucker around casually. “And while my little bro isn't exactly the life of the party, I still love him and want him to be happy. Or should I say her?” he said, smiling wickedly. 

“The hell -” he sucks in a surprised breath, realization dawning and making his stomach sink. “The house, the ghost, the spell. . .that was you?” He asked, horror etching his face. 

“Got it in one, Dean-o.” He looked proud of himself, the fucker. “I thought it was one of my better efforts, that.” 

“You sonofabitch!” Dean lurched across the seat towards the archangel, but felt like he slammed into an invisible wall. 

“Ah, ah, Dean, that's no way to treat somebody trying to do you a solid,” Gabriel snickered. 

“I'll fucking kill you, you bastard,” Dean growled, “I will fucking end you.” 

“Yeah, and that's enough of that for now,” Gabriel sighed, snapping his fingers again. 

Dean cursed again, or tried to. When he opened his mouth, his lips moved, his tongue moved, but no sound came out. Frustrated swears and oaths formed from his mouth but his vocal cords stubbornly refused to work. 

“I've gotta run, my good man, but I needed to drop some knowledge on you real quick before I leave, and really, you need to work on your people skills. It's rude to threaten people when you don't have a chance in hell of pulling it off.” He popped the sucker out of his mouth, contemplating it silently for a minute, before putting it back. His face sobered and his brows drew down as he looked at Dean. “Now, that spell? Really old magic, like ancient biblical blood magic. I'm sure Cas has figured that much out by now. Here's what you need to know. There's a time limit. If you want Cas back to his old self, you've got a month to get your emotional shit together, and that means both of you, not just you, Dean-o. After that, the changes are permanent. Even I won't be able to put Humpty Dumpty back together again after that.” 

Dean had sat quietly, glowering at Gabriel as he spoke. When he got the part about the spell possibly becoming permanent, his face softened, and he looked uncomfortable. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but again, nothing came out. He gave Gabriel a frustrated look. 

“Gonna play nice with the class, kiddo?” 

Dean shut his eyes briefly, then opened them and gave him a terse nod. 

“Good man,” the archangel replied, snapping his fingers. 

Dean sat silently for a moment before speaking quietly, “So, basically, you're telling me there's no other way out of this.” 

“'Fraid not. It's time to shit or get off the pot,” he snickered, earning another glare from Dean. “And that's all the time we have folks! I'll check in with you knuckleheads in a week or two, see how things are going 'kay? Good talk!” Before Dean could reply, he snapped his fingers and was gone. 

“Sonofabitch,” Dean groaned, banging his head on the steering wheel. 

 

***

Cas wearily wiped the sweat from her forehead, grimacing slightly at the grimy feel. Sam had suggested the bunker's gym as a way to work off some of her anger, and she had to admit that it had helped somewhat. What didn't help was how wrong her movements felt. It was very disorienting to expect your body to move a certain way, and find it either not moving the way you expected it to, or other parts moving that you aren't used to having. 

“How's it going?” Sam asked, leaning against the doorway sipping a bottle of water. “Helping clear your head any?”

“My breasts,” she growled, glaring down at the offending body parts, “throw off my balance.”

Sam started coughing and sputtering, trying and failing not to laugh at the disgruntled look on Cas' face. “Sorry, man, I was just not prepared for that statement,” he croaked, trying and failing to hide the smile on his face. 

“It's no laughing matter, Sam. It is distracting to have. . .extra bits. . . moving around when one is unaccustomed to such being there.” 

Sam swallowed hard, and managed to arrange his face into some semblance of sympathy. Which was damn hard because he felt his traitorous lips try to twitch into a smile, but he managed to stop it. “I know, Cas, I'm sorry. If I could help you, I would, you know that.” 

“I have been a soldier of Heaven for millenia, and now I feel useless,” she griped, hands on her hips. 

“I'm sure it's not that bad,” Sam said soothingly. “You're probably just exaggerating.” 

Cas frowned at him, raising one eyebrow. 

“OK, so, show me what you've got, then. Maybe I can give you some pointers, or something. But I need to see how you move first.” Sam pushed off the door frame and moved further into the room, closer to Cas. He stopped about two feet away, and shook his shoulders, and stood, right foot slightly in front of the left, and raised his hands in a defensive posture. “Show me what ya got,” he grinned, “but remember, even with your grace powered down you'll probably hit harder than you mean to.” 

“I have no wish to hurt you, Sam, especially if I can't guarantee I can heal you after,” Cas said thoughtfully, frowning and biting her bottom lip. 

“What, angels never sparred with each other in Heaven? Just don't actually hit me, and we should be fine.” 

“I understand the concept, Sam. If you're sure?” Cas gave him one last chance to back out. 

“It's all good Cas, now, put up or shut up.” 

“I don't -”

“It means try to hit me, or don't,” Sam interrupted, grinning down at his friend. 

Cas scowled, and darted forward, her right arm coming high above her head and down, almost in a stabbing motion. Sam quickly stepped to the left, right hand connecting with her wrist, and he spun into her side, twisting her arm up and behind her back. He tapped Cas gently on the shoulder, and let go, stepping back into the same ready position as before. “I saw that coming from a mile away,” he said, smiling while Cas frowned. “In any fight, you want to try and keep the element of surprise as long as possible. If you'd really had a blade, I could have taken it as soon as I got your hand behind your back.” 

Cas' frown was more thoughtful now, as the two circled each other warily. She darted forward again, this time feinting with her left towards Sam's stomach while going for his chin with her right. Sam sidestepped the feint and blocked the punch with his forearm, before following up with a right of his own, stopping less than an inch from her face. Sam grinned at her, slightly proud that she didn't flinch. She still had that thoughtful frown on her face. “I think I know what your problem is,” he said, stepping back slightly. “When's the last time you fought where you weren't just going for the smiting blow?”

“The what?” she asked, tilting her head and squinting at him. 

“You know,” he said, reaching out and putting a hand on her forehead. “Smiting by touch and all that jazz. Because right now you're basically just throwing hay makers and hoping to get lucky.” 

“Oh.” She bit her lip, considering. “I believe the last time I had to actually participate in physical violence was during Lucifer's uprising. It was angel against angel, and our fighting tactics are different as a result.” 

“Okay, that's uh, good, I guess? I mean, not that it was good, per say, but-” he stammered, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. 

Cas held up a hand to forestall further comment. “I know what you mean, Sam, it's fine. Combat among angels is a completely different set of movements. I won't be able to do them all, because several moves require use of my wings, but maybe I can adapt some of it to my current form.”

She stepped back, closing her eyes, relaxing her shoulders, and breathed deeply. To Sam it looked a lot like she was meditating standing up. He waited, quiet, and suddenly her eyes popped open and she moved. However, to say she moved was an understatement; she flowed, like water, graceful as a dancer. Sam spun and blocked, but was unable to press his own attack, too busy trying to keep Cas from landing a hit. He managed to dodge a hard hit to his left side, and then turned right into her waiting fist. At the last second she pulled her arm back, almost to quick to see, the breathtaking movement the only thing that saved his nose. 

Both of them stared at each other, frozen and breathing hard, before Sam started laughing, and stepped back. “That was fucking amazing, Cas! You have got to teach me how to do that!” 

Cas gave him a rare grin, pleased with the praise. “Thank you, Sam. It's been a long time since I remembered I could move like that. It feels good, actually.” 

“Not bad,” Dean said, from his perch by the door. 

“Dean! I didn't hear you come in,” Sam said, grinning at his brother. “Did you see that? Holy shit I didn't think anybody could move that fast.” 

“Like I said, not bad,” he repeated, giving Cas a small smile and a nod. “But Sam was always too slow,” he said, giving his brother a cocky grin. 

“The hell I am,” Sam shot back, hands on his hips. “If you think you can do better, be my guest,” he said, giving Dean a mocking bow. 

Dean sauntered over towards Cas, who watched him warily, the previous pleasure from Sam's praise gone from her face. “You don't have to, Dean, it's not necessary.” 

“Afraid I can take you, Cas?” he grinned wickedly, “Or was putting Sam in his place just a fluke?”

She scowled, and set her stance, her right foot slightly behind the left and her hands loose are her sides. She slowly brought them up into loose fists, and said archly, “Your move, assbutt.” 

Dean laughed, turning his head to look back at Sammy, but it was a diversion. As he snapped his head back towards Cas, his fist came with it, a short, powerful jab towards her face. Cas sidestepped the blow and attempted to sweep Dean's leg, only to be blocked by a forearm. He tried to grab her ankle in the same move, but a twitch of Cas' hips jerked the limb free. She tried the same feint/strike move she'd pulled on Sam, but Dean was ready for it and countered both moves, using an open two handed block. They both stepped back and circled each other, considering and rejecting moves. In a blur of speed, Cas darted forward, aiming a left-handed punch to Dean's sternum, only to spin off to the right on the ball of her foot, putting her squarely behind Dean. Before he could react to her change in direction, she kicked out hard at the back of his knees, causing him to drop to the floor with a yell. From his kneeling position, he arched his back, grabbing her behind her own knees, and with another yell flipped her over his shoulder and onto her back, leaving her breathless. He quickly scooted up her body to pin her to the floor, hips flush together and his hands pinning down her arms above her head. Fury radiated from the angel in waves, as blue eyes glared daggers into green. 

Dean looked down at Cas, watching her breasts heave with her ire, and her struggles to free herself made his thickening erection rub against her softness. In a blink, fury changed to lust, and then to embarrassment; Cas' face flushed, and she looked away. “Very well, you've made your point, Dean, now please get off.” 

He felt his dick twitch at her choice of words, and grinned down at her, subtly grinding his hips down on hers. “Have I? Because I don't think I have,” he smirked, slowly rolling his hips against hers. He chuckled when she closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, fighting her own arousal. 

Sam cleared his throat loudly. “So, I'm gonna go-” he started, but stopped when he realized that he might as well be talking to the wall for all the other two paid attention. He rolled his eyes, and left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.   
“Dean, this isn't what you really want,” Cas said, her voice breathy and uneven. 

“I'd say evidence points to the contrary, wouldn't you?” he drawled, leaning down to press small kisses against her jaw and down her neck. 

“You know what I meant, Dean,” she said, closing her eyes again. 

Dean stopped kissing her neck and frowned. Cas had gone completely still, and her eyes were still closed. “Tell me you don't want me,” he growled, rolling his hips against hers again, making her whimper. 

“I, I can't tell you that, Dean. . .but that doesn't mean I want this right now,” she gasped, eyes still tightly shut and her face turned away. 

“Fuck.” He was practically raping Cas on the floor, when she was virtually radiating the word 'no'. He swiftly rolled off her, cursing again, quickly making his way for the door. 

“Dean, wait,” she called, “I'm sorry, I just-”

He stopped in front of the door. He couldn't, wouldn't look at her right now, he was too ashamed. He'd never, ever, forced a woman in his life, and he couldn't believe he'd come so close. To Cas, no less. His best friend, and he'd been a fucking savage. “I'm the one who should be sorry, Cas,” he said softly, self-loathing dripping from every word. “Not you. Never you.” 

“Dean!” she called, but he went out the door without another word, slamming it shut behind him. 

***

He'd been locked in his room for hours. He'd had the fight the urge to throw himself into his Baby, and take off again, running away from his problems. But weirdly, it was his promise to Cas that kept him in his room, that they would talk. If she still wanted to talk to him, that is. He threw the book he'd been pretending to read across the room, disgusted with himself all over again. Sam had knocked earlier, asking if he was okay, asking what had happened, but Dean had shouted through the door that he was fine and didn't need any chick flick moments, thank you very much. He'd thought he'd heard Sammy muttering something about 'emotional constipation', but Dean had chosen to ignore it. 

When a knock sounded on the door again, he'd flopped on his bed, shouting, “Go away, Sammy, I told you I didn't wanna talk!” 

“It's not Sam, Dean, it's me,” came Cas' voice, so soft he almost didn't hear her. “May I come in?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Cursing under his breath, he heaved himself off his bed and unlocked the door, pulling it open slightly. “You sure you want to do that, Cas?” he asked warily. 

Cas looked miserable. Her eyes were slightly swollen and red, but her face was calm and determined. “Not really, Dean, but I think we need to,” she said softly. “May I come in?”

Wordlessly, Dean stepped back from the door, gesturing for her to step inside. He closed the door behind her, watching as she picked her way towards the chair next to the bed. Dean sat across from her on the foot of his bed, hands clasped loosely between his spread knees.

“I'm sorry-”, both of them started, and looked at each other sheepishly. Cas waved for him to go first. 

“I'm so damn sorry, Cas. I shouldn't have acted that way with you. I wouldn't blame you if you hated my guts right now,” he grimaced, unable to look her in the eye. 

“It's all right, Dean,” she said, giving him a wan smile. “I don't hate you.” 

“You should,” he said, rubbing his face hard, still avoiding her gaze. “I would, if it were me.” 

“Stop it,” she said harshly. “Look at me, Dean.” 

He warily raised his eyes to look at her. Her face was set in a severe frown, brow wrinkled. “What is this between us? When I try to tell you how I feel, you shut me down and run away. When I turn you down for sex, you act like I've labeled you a sexual predator. What am I to you? Because the constant back and forth is upsetting, to say the least.” 

Dean opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He shook his head, cuffing the back of his head with his hand. “Honestly? I have no fucking idea, Cas.” He sighed, scrubbing rough hands over his face. “You know I'm not much for the touchy-feely stuff. And I've never been a poster boy for relationships. I have no idea what this is, or what's going on between us. Right now, I feel like shit because I was pushing for something you clearly didn't want, and I didn't listen when you said no.” 

Cas was quiet for a moment, those endlessly blue eyes searching his face. “I don't want to just be a, what did you call it? 'Friends with benefits'? You mean more to me than that. If that's not what you want from me, as well, then I don't want to continue to be intimate with you, no matter how much we both might want it.” She sighed, and dropped her eyes, shifting uncomfortably on her chair. “I still think it would be easier if I left. Surely this spell will wear off at some point.” 

Dean winced, a strong wash of guilt crashing over him as he remember his conversation with Gabriel. “Ah, Cas, about that,” he said, looking anywhere but at her. 

“What, Dean?” 

“See, I kind of ran in Gabriel earlier,” he stopped, looking at Cas guiltily. 

“I thought he was killed by Lucifer?”

“Yeah, apparently not so much,” he said, cuffing the back of his neck. “But he knew about the spell. And the thing is, well, see, it's. . .ah, fuck,” he cursed. “It's complicated,” he finished lamely, still not able to look her in the eye. 

“What aren't you telling me, Dean? Was Gabriel behind this?” 

He paused, long enough for Cas to prompt him again. “Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas, he was. The haunted house wasn't haunted at all. It was all bait to get us there. To get us together, apparently.” 

“To get us together? Dean, we were already together.” 

Dean groaned. “No, Cas, together together.” 

“I don't. . .wait. . .he wanted us to have sex? But why? What purpose did that serve?” Dean didn't have to look to know that Cas had the head-tilt-squint going on in her confusion. 

“Apparently he's designated himself guardian of your love life,” he said, giving Cas a grim look. “Why he felt that included me, I don't want to know.” 

Cas was silent a moment, deep in thought. “I feel like there is more to the story, Dean,” she said softly. 

“Yeah, there is. So, apparently. . . we have to work out stuff. Between us. Not that I'm sure what exactly we're supposed to work out, but if we don't do it in a month, you'll be stuck like this. For good.” Dean dared to look at Cas then, for the first time since the conversation had started. Her face was stricken, and he felt a stab of guilt. “Cas, man, I'm sorry, we'll figure it out.” 

“I don't understand, why Gabriel felt this was necessary?” Her voice was so soft, it was almost inaudible. 

“Angel, Cas, you know, dicks with wings? 'Cept you, obviously.” 

“No, Dean, Gabriel may be many things, but he has a reason for almost everything he does. He had to have a reason for this. He didn't tell you anything else?” 

Dean took a breath, and let it out in a huff. “He said he wanted you to be happy.” 

Cas was silent, looking down at the floor for a long moment before looking back up at Dean. She stood abruptly, almost knocking over the chair. She looked stricken, and she staggered blindly for the door, fumbling for the knob in her haste to leave. “I have to. . .I need to. . . I have to go,” she stammered.

“Cas, wait,” Dean called, a bit of panic threading through him. “where are you going?”

Cas paused in the doorway, but wouldn't look back at him. After a long moment, she replied softly, “Anywhere but here,” and darted out the door, slamming it closed behind her. 

Dean sat there, stunned, before his brain kicked back in. He lurched toward the door, hollering, “Cas!” He yanked the door open, looking both ways to try and figure out which way she went. Dimly, he heard the door to the bunker slam, and he cursed loudly. He ran to the circular stairwell, up and out, but by the time he got the door open, she was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

“Dammit, it's been two days, where the hell could she be?”

“I don't know, Dean, but we'll find her, chill out,” Sam said soothingly, tapping on his laptop.

“Sammy, she left with the clothes on her back, no money, and we're not even sure if she took her phone. What if something happened? What if somebody grabbed her? Fuck!” Dean swore, raking his hand through his hair. He stood up abruptly, heading for the garage. “I'm going out to look for her again.” 

“Dean, wait-” Sam stopped as his phone rang. He picked it up, but it said unknown caller. Looking at Dean apprehensively, he answered it. “Hello? Cas? Cas, where are you? Are you okay?”

“Give me the phone, Sammy,” Dean said, trying to grab the phone from his little brother. 

Sam fended off his brother's hands, turning his body and using his height to keep the phone. “Tell me where you are, Cas, we'll come get you.” He stopped for a second, glaring at Dean, who was still attempting to steal the phone away, and made a 'quit it' gesture. “Yeah, I'm still here, Cas. Okay, I'll be right there. Just stay put, okay? Yeah, you too. Bye.” 

“The hell, Sammy? Why wouldn't you give me the damn phone?”

Sam looked down at the phone in his hand, before looking up at his brother. “She doesn't want to see you.” 

“What do you mean, she doesn't want to see me? The hell?”

“I mean, she wants me to come get her, alone, and she doesn't want to see you when she gets back. She said if she sees you, she'll just leave again.” Sam's face was sad, but determined. “I don't know what the hell happened between you, but you need to fix this. You promised when you left last time that you would. What the hell did you do this time, Dean?” 

“I didn't do anything!” Dean said indignantly. “I didn't even want to talk the last day she was here, but she insisted. I guess,” he started, and stopped, rubbing the back of his neck as he dropped back into his chair, “she didn't like what I told her about the spell.” 

“Spell? What spell? Oh,” Sam's eyes went wide. “Are you fucking kidding me? Instead of working on your shit you talked about the spell?” 

“It's not just that, it's that ah, on my way back I sorta ran into Gabriel.” 

“The hell, Dean? Why the fuck didn't you tell me about this sooner?” Sam glared. 

“I was worried about Cas, okay? I just forgot in trying to find my best friend, thanks,” Dean spat, glaring back at his brother. 

“That's a fucking weak excuse, and you know it, Dean. What did Gabriel say?” 

Dean huffed out a breath, slumping in his chair. “He told me that it was old, Biblical blood magic. And it can't be undone, not like most spells. Basically we have to work out shit between us, both of us, or the change to Cas' form is permanent. Even Gabe said he can't undo it later.” 

“And you told Cas all of this?”

“Basically, yeah.” 

“Shit,” breathed Sam, falling back into his own chair. “That explains a lot. What did she say after you told her?” 

“She wanted to know why Gabriel did it. I told her what he told me, that he wanted her to be happy. That's when she took off. I asked her where she was going, and she said, 'Anywhere but here'. And then she was gone.” 

Sam shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face roughly. He stood and held his hand out. “Keys, Dean.”

“I still think I should go.” 

“Absolutely not. All I want you to do right now, is sit and think of how to make this right. If that means shoveling through your feelings for the next day or two, or surgically removing your head from your ass, I don't really care, as long as you figure your shit out. I mean it, Dean,” his tone warm with growing anger. “I care about Cas too, and I'm tired of you both hurting each other. Figure it out,” he growled, as Dean slapped the keys to the Impala in his hand. With a last warning glance at his brother, he left for the garage. 

Alone, Dean sat quietly for a minute, before giving in to the growing shame and raking everything off the table in a fit of anger. He got up and stalked back to his room, slamming the door and throwing on his headphones, determined to loose himself in music for awhile. That lasted about ten minutes, before he was too restless to sit still. With a snarl he threw down his headphones and out of his room, heading back to the war room. Muttering under his breath, he picked up the mess he'd made, feeling a small stab of disappointment that he hadn't broken Sam's laptop. With little else to do, he started to pace, thoughts swirling around and around of Cas' face, of how hurt and defeated she'd looked before she left. He was startled out of his reverie by a banging on the bunker door. Swift as a thought, he grabbed his gun, and cautiously made his way up the circular stairs. He'd made it to the top when the banging started again, almost like knocking. He took a breath, and blew it out, yanking the door open and pointing the gun, ready to shoot first and ask questions later. 

“Howdy, sunshine! Miss me?” Gabriel's grinning face filled the open space between the door and the jamb. 

“What are you doing here?” Dean sputtered, momentarily caught off guard. 

“I toldja I was coming for a visit, Dean-o, and here I am!” Gabriel cackled, pushing the door open wider with one finger, forcing Dean to step back, still holding the gun. “Now, it's rude to point guns at people you don't intend to shoot, don't you know that?” 

“I should shoot you on principle, you ass,” Dean growled, finger caressing the trigger.  
“You could, but it wouldn't do anything but piss me off, and do you really want that, Dean?” Gabriel's face went from jovial to pissed in an instant, frown replacing smile and his brows lowering. The shorter man suddenly radiated power and Dean swallowed hard, but refused to let his face show it.  
Grudgingly, he lowered the gun and stepped back, allowing the archangel entrance. 

As quick as it came, the scowl was gone, replaced again with a grin, and the heavy feel of Gabriel's power vanished like a soap bubble. “Fantastic! Always wanted to see this place,” he commented, looking around like a tourist. “Those geeky little guys sure did know their warding, I have to say, it's top-notch,” he nodded, pointing at invisible places only he could see. “Even I couldn't pop in all willy-nilly.” 

“Good to know. Now cut the crap, what do you want?” Dean had put up his gun, but stood by the stairs, his arms crossed. 

“To see my darling little sibling, of course. Where is my Cassie?” He stopped, frowning. “I don't feel her here, where is she?”

“She's not here.” 

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. I got that. Where is she, currently?” Gabriel asked, raising one eyebrow. 

“I, uh, I'm not sure. But Sam is on his way to pick her up,” he said, looking anywhere but at Gabriel. 

“I don't like where this is going, Dean-o. Why don't you know where she is? Why is Sam, of all people, having to go pick her up?” His voice began to warm with the first threads of anger. “Why is my little sister not here right now?”

“We ah, kind of had a talk. I told her what you said, and that's what made her leave,” Dean said defensively, glaring back at Gabriel. 

“Tell me exactly what you said, Dean,” he replied, crossing his own arms and setting his feet. 

“I told her about the spell. I told her what you said, that we had to figure things out, both of us, and she asked why, why you did it. I told her what you said about wanting her to be happy, and that's when she left.” 

Gabriel sighed, all vestiges of anger seeping out of his posture. “Fuck me,” he groaned. “Okay, so maybe some of this is my fault. But,” he snapped his eyes back up to Dean, “not all. I told you to figure it out, Dean, not shove it all on me.” 

“I've tried! Don't you think I've tried? I don't know what we have between us. I know I care about her, him, whatever, a lot. He's family, you know?” 

“You and I both know she's a lot more than that, or we wouldn't be having this conversation.” 

“No, I don't!” Dean spat, throwing his hands in the air, and turning away from the archangel. “I don't know what the hell we are,” he said, softer.  
“I think you do, Dean, but you don't wanna admit it. And nobody can make up your mind but you.” 

“I don't. . .I can't. . .” he stammered, turning away from the other man. “Fuck!” 

A hand clasped his shoulder softly. “Love's a bitch, Dean-o. Answer me something, honestly. How did you feel when she left?”

“I. . .I was pissed. And hurt. Like every time Cas has left, or took off, or wouldn't talk to me,” Dean admitted, quietly. 

“And if she never came back? If she never wanted to see you again?” the archangel prodded, gently. 

Dean sucked in a breath. The thought of never seeing Cas again. . .it hurt like a physical pain in his chest, and made him feel light-headed. “That, that would suck,” he finished lamely, still refusing to look at Gabriel. 

“Does she make you happy? Like, just being in the room with her, make you happy?” the smaller man asked gently. 

Dean was silent for a long moment, before responding quietly, “Yeah.” 

“Then don't you think you owe it to yourself, to Cas, to try? To see if there's more there?” 

“It's wrong,” he whispered, curling in on himself. 

“Love is never wrong, Dean.” 

“No, that's not what I meant. I meant. . . “ he stopped, swallowing hard, “it's not really Cas.” 

Frowning, Gabriel moved into Dean's space, so that Dean had to look at him. “I'm not sure I'm following, here, Dean. Are you talking like it's not Cas in there?”

“It's not MY Cas!” Dean yelled, his face red and turning away from Gabriel. 

“How is it not 'your' Cas?” 

“Because. . . because. . . “ to his horror, he felt his eyes start to sting and realized how much he'd missed his Cas. “Because my Cas isn't a girl,” he finished softly, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders, waiting for Gabriel to laugh at him, or mock him for it. 

“I know.” 

The unexpected phrase coming from the archangel wasn't what Dean was prepared to hear. His head snapped up in surprise, finally making contact with Gabriel in his shock. “The hell?” 

“I know that Cas as a girl isn't your Cas. That was the point of the spell.” His tone was calm, almost infuriatingly so, but his eyes were kind, and filled with understanding.

“No, but it's wrong, dude, I'm not gay!” Dean spat, angry now. “The fuck did you think you were playing at?”

“This wasn't about playing with anything, or anyone. This was about getting your head out of your ass and seeing what was in front of you the whole time. You going to honestly tell me, that when you had sex with Cas, you didn't honestly think about what it would have been like if he'd still been a man?” 

“I don't. . .I'm not. . . I can't. . .” Dean stammered, feeling like his brain was on the edge of short-circuiting. His breathing hitched, and he felt his pulse sky rocket. “I don't like guys,” he said again, but almost as if he were talking more to himself than his guest. 

“Nobody said you had to like guys, Dean. Have you ever felt like this about a guy before?” Gabriel asked gently. 

“No. Definitely not.” Dean's voice was more sure, feeling like he was on firmer ground. “It's always been girls.” 

“So what if Cas was just the exception to the rule? You know, like you were Cas-sexual?” Gabriel said with a smirk. 

In spite of himself, Dean found himself snorting. “I'm pretty sure that's not a thing.” 

“Who says it isn't? If you feel this way about just one person, regardless of the gender their currently in, then who's to say you don't just love the person, regardless of what's on the outside? Obviously, you were attracted to Cas' in her female form. But I'm betting there's been times you've wondered, wondered what it'd be like when he was still a man, haven't there? I've seen how you guys look at each other.” He paused when Dean shot him a dirty look. “Dude, they call it eye fucking for a reason. Normal people, hell even abnormal people, don't share long, lingering looks where they try to see who can stare into the other's eyes the longest.” 

“I don't know what-” 

“Oh cut the crap, Dean.” Gabriel cut in, frustration starting to color his tone. “You know exactly what I'm talking about.” 

Dean was quiet for another few moments, deep in thought. Gabriel waited patiently while Dean processed his thoughts before speaking again. 

“What if I can't? With him as a man?” he asked softly, looking sadly up at Gabriel. “I don't want to hurt him. Yeah, I'm curious, I'll admit that. But, what if the rubber meets the road, and I just can't. . .you know,” he broke off, feeling a blush rise on his cheeks. “I mean, I can't control if nothing happens downstairs, if you know what I mean.” 

Gabriel sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before speaking. “I'll never understand how humans can get so caught up in the wrapping,” he said, more to himself than to Dean. He looked up at the elder Winchester. “Tell me, and tell me the truth, because I'll know if you lie; when you're having Dean-o's private happy fun time, tell me you haven't ever thought about Cas, in his male form, and gotten off to it.” 

Dean was utterly speechless for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a freshly caught trout. “Jesus, Gabe!” he finally croaked, his throat suddenly drier than a desert. 

“That wasn't an answer, Dean. Put up or shut up.” 

“It's none of your business, man!” 

“I think the lady doth protest too much,” Gabriel snickered, crossing his arms across his chest. “Last chance, Dean, before I look for myself, as much as I don't really need to see that.” 

“What difference does it make?” he asked, a little desperately, taking a step back from the archangel. 

“It makes all the difference,” Gabriel said softly, arching one eyebrow at Dean. “Now, you gonna 'fess up or not?” 

“You seriously gonna make me?” 

“As serious as a heart attack, I am.” 

“Fuck you, Gabe,” Dean spat, turning away from the smaller man and hunching his shoulders again. 

Gabriel waited, counting the heartbeats of silence. Finally, he heard Dean whisper, so softly that without his angelic hearing he might not have heard it. “Yes.” 

He watched as Dean's body seemed to collapse in on himself. He hit his knees hard enough that it made the archangel flinch, and he slumped over, his breathing ragged. The sound of his ragged breathing echoed through the silence. Gabriel sighed softly to himself, before walking quietly over to the hunter. Gently he rested a hand on the other man's shoulder, lightly in case Dean shook him off, but offering him comfort if needed. 

Dean was quiet for a few long moments. He didn't move away from Gabriel's touch, but he didn't seem to notice it was there, either. Finally, he looked up at Gabriel. His eyes were wet, but his face was dry, as if he'd done everything he could to keep any tears from falling. 

“Things any clearer, now?” Gabriel asked, gently. 

“Maybe,” Dean said softly, looking back down at the floor. “I think. . .I think I need some time, right now, before they get back.” 

Gabriel nodded, and gently helped the taller man to his feet. “Got it from here?” he asked. 

Nodding numbly, Dean looked back at him. Gabriel was struck by the pain and misery in his eyes. Before Gabriel could say anything else, Dean turned away and walked away, heading for the sanctuary of his room. Gabriel watched him go, until he disappeared into the doorway leading to the bedrooms. Heaving another sigh, he looked around, deciding to explore a bit before the others returned.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for homophobic language.

Dean flopped heavily onto his bed, his chest tight and his head whirling. Everything was so fucked up. He was fucked up. Not to mention, he'd fucked things up. Again. It seemed that's all he was ever good for, was fucking things up. And that shit with Gabriel? It was one thing to admit that Cas as a female was attractive; it was another to admit to himself that he missed his Cas, and that he'd thought about him that way. He wasn't homophobic, either. Who you loved was who you loved, after all. But John Winchester hadn't seen it that way. Dean had had a lifetime of listening to his father rant about gays, and how he'd be damned if either of his sons turned out to be 'fuckin' faggots'. So when it came to himself, he'd never let himself think outside the box, so to say. Really, he wasn't attracted to men, as a general rule, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate how one looked or was dressed. So what was it about Cas that just got past all the bullshit? What the hell made him so special? 

Not that Cas wasn't handsome. Jimmy Novak had been a good looking man. But honestly, it'd been so long, it wasn't Jimmy's body anymore. It was Cas. Just Cas. Even when they'd woke up in that room, and Cas was in a woman's body, he'd known. As soon as he'd looked into those blue eyes, he'd known that it was Cas. And if he was really honest with himself, it wasn't the body he was attracted to. It was Cas. Cas, with his head tilt and his sass. Cas, who over the last few years had started to get Dean's references and make jokes. Cas, who seemed to get him better than anybody else, including Sam. Cas, who he'd torn through Purgatory to find. Cas, who he'd caught himself staring at his lips, more than once, wondering what they'd feel like under his. Who he'd wondered more than once about, about what he'd look like under those baggy clothes he always wore. 

But now, he'd fucked it all up again. She didn't want to see him, didn't want anything to do with him. Who could blame her? He'd practically tried to rape her on the floor of the gym. All he could think about was that she was only coming back to get her stuff, and that she'd leave again. Leave the only other home she'd come to know, and all because of Dean. 

“Fuck it,” he said aloud, abruptly standing. If anybody had to leave, it'd be him. He'd be damned if he'd let Cas be homeless again because of him. He grabbed a duffel, and started throwing stuff in it, then cursed when he remembered Sammy still had Baby. Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he remembered Dorothy's bike. He'd been working on it here and there, and it was in good running shape now. He'd take it for now, and get Sam to meet him somewhere with the Impala later. Nodding to himself, he put some toiletries in the bag, and zipped it up. He ducked his head out the door, checking to see if the coast was clear. He stepped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. He paused, looking at Cas' door. Slowly, he crossed the hall and opened her door, and stepped inside. He found a pen and paper, and before he could change his mind, started scribbling. After a few minutes, he signed his name, and folded the paper, laying it gently on her pillow. With a last sigh, he left her room, closing the door again softly. 

He swiftly made his way to the garage, and tied his duffel to the back of the bike. Starting her up, he eased he way out of the bunker, and headed for the highway. 

***

“Thank you for coming to get me, Sam. I appreciate it.” 

“No problem, Cas, you know that. But I still think you guys need to talk. Again.”  
Cas sighed, leaning her head again the glass. “I'll admit that hearing that Gabriel had done all this was very upsetting. But the fact that Dean kept that from me, that hurt more. That's why I needed to leave.” 

“To be fair, he'd just come back. It's not like he'd had a chance to tell either of us,” Sam said gently, giving Cas a sympathetic look. 

“I know. At least, I know that now. At the time, I was just so upset, and angry. Instead of telling us both straight away, it was easier to fight and spar, and then to try and sleep with me, even after I told him no.” 

“Wait, what?” Sam gasped. “Cas, did he...I mean, you didn't...”

“No, Sam, he didn't. After he realized that I didn't want to, he stopped. But you know how your brother is. I'd have just as well labeled him a rapist instead of just saying 'no'.” 

Sam let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. “That's, that's good, at least,” he finished lamely. 

“I have no idea what to say to him, Sam. I want to talk to him, but it seems to always go wrong whenever I try. Normally I have an infinite amount of patience, but now that I know I have a time limit, I'm afraid it won't be enough.” 

“Yeah, you'd think if Gabriel was going to give you a clue about a spell, he'd at least let you know about any other crap that goes with it,” he growled, shaking his head. He looked over at Cas. “We'll figure it out, I promise. Whatever it takes. Up to, and including, beating my brother until he has some sense.” 

That got a weak laugh from Cas. “I don't think that actually works, Sam.”

“No, but it might make me feel better.” 

She smiled at him. “You are a good friend, Sam. I don't feel like I tell you that enough.” 

“We're family, Cas, it's what we do,” he said, as he made the turn onto the dirt road leading back to the bunker. Using the clicker that Dean had installed, he pulled into the garage and parked. 

“I'm going to take a shower,” Cas announced, getting out of the car and stretching slightly. “Two days camping out in the woods makes you feel less than clean.” 

“I'd say. You want me to clear the way first?” Sam asked, exiting the vehicle and looking at her over the roof of the car. 

Cas took a deep breath, and sighed it out. “No, if I'm lucky he'll be locked in his room. If not, I can be an adult, and be polite. I'll be fine, Sam, but thank you.” 

Sam nodded at her, and followed her out of the garage. 

Cas made her way to her room, intending to collect her things for the shower, when she noticed the folded up piece of paper on her pillow. Frowning, she picked it up, seeing her name on the front. Opening it, she realized it was from Dean, and sat on the edge of her bed to read it. 

_Cas,_

_I'm so sorry that things have went so wrong between us. I know it's all my fault, and I just wanted to let you know how sorry I was for hurting you again. It seems like all we ever do is hurt each other. I never meant to drive you away after we talked, but I know that it was my actions that drove you to leave again. This is your home, Cas, and after the last time I made you leave I made a promise to myself that I'd never do that to you again. So this time, I'll leave. I was never good with relationships, even ones where we didn't know what the hell it was. I know what you said, but I don't deserve good things. I'm just a soldier, a grunt, and I know where my road will end. Love and having somebody were never part of the plan for me, I knew that after everything fell apart with Lisa. It's just easier to be alone. I know that by leaving I'm also leaving you stuck in a form that's not yours, and I'm so fucking sorry, but I can't hurt you anymore. I know Sam will do everything he can to help you find another way back to being you. He was always the brains of the operation anyway. Maybe after he fixes you he can go back to college, be who he wanted to be, instead of being stuck with me. Tell Sammy I'll call in a few days and he can meet me with the Impala. You can also tell him not to bother to try and track my phone, I've turned the GPS off. Hopefully one day you can find it in you to forgive me._

_Dean_

“Dammit, Dean,” she breathed, feeling tears well up. She darted toward the door, calling, “Sam!” but stopped short when the face that met her at the door was decidedly _not_ Sam. 

“Cassie! Long time no see!” Gabriel cried, grabbing her in a tight hug. “Though I have to say, you've smelled better,” he said, winking at her. 

“Brother...I thought you were dead,” she whispered. Shock was plain across her features and the letter from Dean dangled from her hand, almost forgotten. 

“Cas, as many times as you and the Winchesters have come back from the dead, my own resurrection should not be that surprising.” 

Eyes wide, Cas grabbed Gabriel in another tight hug. “I've missed you, Brother,” she mumbled into his shoulder. Then she scowled, and jerking back, she punched him, hard in the chest. The impact made the archangel stagger back a step, his brow knit with confusion. 

“The hell was that for?” he whined, rubbing the spot. 

“You really have to ask, Gabriel?” she shot back, gesturing mockingly at herself. “I have been told I have you to thank for all of this, Brother.” 

“Okay, I can see that you might be a bit upset about that-”

“A bit? A _bit_? I'm going to be stuck like this until this vessel dies or I abandon it to take a new one! And you think I'm only a bit upset?” Cas seethed, looking like she was considering punching him again.  
“Relax, as long as you two knuckleheads sort out your emotional baggage before the month's out, you'll be good as new!” 

“That would be difficult, as the one man who can help restore me is currently unavailable.” 

“Dean? He's here, isn't he? He's the one who let me in!” 

“Not anymore, he's not,” Cas growled, showing him the letter he left. 

Sam, drawn by the loud voices, caught the tail end of their conversation. “What do you mean, he's gone? And Gabriel? The hell, man, I thought you were dead?” Turning confused eyes to Cas, “Is it really him?” 

She nodded wearily at Sam, then replied, “Dean left me a letter. He's gone. He said he'll call you in a few days and you can meet him with the Impala.” 

“Well, if he's got his phone-”

“It won't work Sam,” she cut in gently. “He turned the GPS off so you won't be able to find him.” 

“Hello, trickster god and archangel here. If anybody can find him, it'll be me,” Gabriel announced, jerking both thumbs toward himself for extra emphasis. 

“How? He's warded against angels, Brother.” 

“Psh, you think a little thing like that's gonna stop me? I'll find him, don't you worry.” 

“Wait, Gabriel, maybe we should give him a day or two,” Sam said thoughtfully. 

“Seriously?” the smaller man drawled. 

“Yes, seriously. I know my brother, sometimes he just has to go somewhere and get his head out of his ass before he's willing to listen to reason. Dragging him back here like a little kid will just make him less likely to listen or be willing to talk.” 

Gabriel looked at Cas, silently asking her opinion. She looked back, and nodded once, before looking down at the floor. He shook his head, and rolled his eyes. “Okay, then, so what now?” 

“For starters, you could tell us how you happen to be not dead,” Sam replied, arms crossed. 

“It's not that interesting of a story,” Gabriel started, but Cas cut him off. 

“Oh, no, I for one am very interested in this story. Library?” she stated, not really asking, as she turned from her room and led the way. 

Sam and Gabriel were left looking at each other, bemused, before shrugging and following the angel from the room. 

As they settled into chairs in the library, two pairs of eyes looked at Gabriel expectantly. 

“So, ah,” he started, clearing his throat nervously. “I guess I have to start off by saying that Luci really did kill me, back at the Elysian Fields.” 

“I felt you die, Brother. I just don't understand how you're back,” Cas stated, arms crossed. 

“Yeah, well, I'm sure you know about Metadouche and the angel tablet?” As both nodded at him, he continued. “Yeah, well, he used the mojo of about five other angels and a spell from the tablet to bring me back.” 

“Five? Why so many? It only took my grace to close the gates of heaven! Whose did he take?” Cas asked, horror on her face. 

“I didn't get their names, Cas, I'm sorry. It took so many because I'm an archangel. He was basically using their graces as a battery for the power he didn't have. Also, I bet he didn't tell you that the spell that sealed heaven required a special kind of grace, did he?” Gabriel asked softly. 

“No, he didn't,” she answered, ducking her head in shame. 

“He needed the grace of an angel in love,” Gabriel said gently, meeting Cas' eyes when she looked up in shock. “I'm sorry.” 

“But how could he have known-” she started, the stopped. “Everyone knows, don't they?” she stated dully, her shoulders slumping and curling in on herself. 

“I don't think it's like that, Cas,” Sam said gently, reaching over to pat her on the shoulder. 

“No, it's not, actually, unfortunately, he was told,” Gabriel said, his own discomfort causing him to look away. 

“Told by who?” Sam asked. 

Gabriel squirmed a bit in his chair, finally mumbling something under his breath. 

Before Sam could ask what he said, Cas' eyes went wide, and her face flushed. “What do you mean, you told him?”

Gabriel shot his sibling an apologetic look, holding his hands out in a placating manner. “Okay, let me explain? When Metadouche brought me back, I wasn't exactly a free agent. He basically had me by the short and curlies the whole time. Anytime I didn't do what he asked, or tell him what he wanted to know, I was...punished.” He swallowed hard. “I'm a freaking archangel, and I've never had to suffer pain like that before.” He stopped, looking away from both of them, his face haunted. He swallowed hard again, and looked back at Cas, his eyes pleading for her to understand. “Cas, you know me, you were always my favorite fledgling. I'd never have hurt you on purpose.” 

Cas closed her eyes, rubbing her face hard. Sam squeezed her shoulder gently, offering her silent support. “I understand, Gabriel, you couldn't help it. I forgive you.” She took a deep breath, and opened her eyes and looked at the archangel. “Was it really you? When Metatron had me in that dream, or vision? Were you really there?” 

“Yeah, Cas, I was. Even though that whole scenario wasn't real, I was really there. I wish I could have told you, but Metatron would never have allowed it. I had to sell it, make you believe it was real. Honestly, the only thing that saved me was that you figured it out for yourself.” 

Cas sighed deeply, then stood abruptly. “I think I've had enough for tonight. I still need to shower, and I believe I'll go to bed after. Good night, Sam, Gabriel.” She stopped, and looked back at Gabriel again. “I am glad you're here, despite the circumstances. I've missed you.” 

“I missed you too, Cas,” Gabriel said sadly. 

With a last look at the two of them, she walked out, headed for her room and the showers. 

With a sigh, Gabriel slumped down in his chair. “Well, that went better than expected.” 

“I should stab you with something sharp,” Sam said casually, looking at him calmly. 

Frowning and quirking one eyebrow, Gabriel spoke. “The hell, Samsquatch? What did I do to you?” 

“It's not what you did to me, it's what you did to them. They're my family, Gabriel, and you've hurt them. Again.” 

“I know that's what it looks like right now, but-”

“No buts, Gabe!” Sam yelled, leaning forward with a scowl on his face. “Who the hell died and made you matchmaker, huh? Why couldn't you leave well enough alone?” 

“Oh, c'mon, Sam! You know as well as I do that they'd have danced around forever, never talking about the elephant in the room or doing anything about it. This way, they have to deal with it, and how they feel about each other.” 

“All I know is, you've hurt Cas, and you've driven my brother off. He was holed up in his room when I left, and I get back and he's gone? If I didn't know better I'd think you had something to do with that too!”

Gabriel winced at his words. “Well, actually,” he sighed, rubbing his nose.

Sam closed his eyes briefly, mentally wishing for patience. He snapped them open again and pinned Gabriel with a look. “Start talking. Now. Before I find something in this bunker that will hurt you. Because I know for a fact that you'd have to make it to the door, instead of just using your mojo to disappear.” 

“Hey, in my defense, I told Dean I'd be coming for a visit...I just showed up sooner than I said I would. Dean and I had a talk, after I found out about Cas being gone, that's all, I swear!” 

“What did you say to him, Gabe?” Sam spat, leaning forward in his chair. 

“I might have made him realize that his attraction to Cas didn't start when she was turned into a girl,” Gabriel answered, wincing slightly. 

“Oh fuck,” Sam cursed, flopping back into his chair. “That explains a lot,” he groaned. 

“I would have never taken your brother for a homophobe.” 

“He's not, in the traditional sense. But you have to understand, our dad, he was always all about being an alpha male, no 'chick flick' moments, no tears, and definitely no looking or even thinking about other guys in any form that might be homosexual. We weren't even allowed to say something about each other looking nice in a suit or anything like that, because then Dad would make a smart ass remark about us being fags.” Sam sighed. “Dean always got it worse than I did, but most of that is because Dean shielded me from a lot. He covered for me when I got upset about stuff, and a few times he even took a beating for me. I caught a lot of shit from Dad, he used to call me a 'delicate fucking flower', but Dean wasn't even allowed to do anything but make direct eye contact with another guy. If he was just people watching, and Dad thought he was looking at something he shouldn't, he'd call Dean on it and tell him to quit being a fucking homo.” 

“What a bag of dicks,” Gabriel muttered. “I mean, I never met the man, but still.” 

“The worst was one time after Dad got back from a hunt. Dean was sixteen, and he'd been watching me while Dad was gone. He was only supposed to be gone for like, two or three days, tops. But he ended up being gone for a month. Dean tried to make the money Dad left last, but eventually the money ran out. He hustled pool for awhile, but that only helped so much. He never would tell me what else he did, but I heard him and Dad arguing after he came back. I was supposed to be asleep, but they were so loud, there's no way I could have slept through it. It was the first time I ever heard Dean talk back to Dad, and Dad almost beat him half to death for it.” Sam took a shaky breath. He rubbed his face, hard, before looking up at Gabriel. “I'm not telling you this so you can use it as ammunition later. I'm telling you this so you can understand how badly you fucked up. So help me, if you breathe a word of what I'm about to tell you, I will find a way to end you. Do you understand me?” 

Swallowing hard, all Gabriel could do was nod at the younger Winchester. 

“Dad found out what Dean had been doing to earn money. Dean had gotten picked up at the bar he'd been hustling pool at, guy told him he'd give him two hundred bucks if he'd let him watch Dean jack off. Dean told Dad that they didn't touch, that it wasn't anything, but Dad still told Dean that 'only fuckin' faggots let other dudes watch them jack off, and I didn't raise you to be a goddamn fag'.” Sam locked eyes with Gabriel again. “Dean only did what he had to do, what he was forced to do, because Dad didn't care enough about us to make sure we had a roof over our heads and food to eat. And Dad nearly killed him over it.” He let out a shaky breath before he continued. “I snuck out of bed and got to the phone, and called Bobby. I didn't tell him what I'd heard, just that Dean and Dad had gotten into it and that I was afraid Dad was going to kill him. Thankfully, we were only a few hours from Sioux Falls, and Bobby came and told Dad he was taking us home with him. Dad tried to stop him, but Bobby threatened to call child protective services on him if he didn't let us go. By the time Bobby got there, Dad had broken Dean's arm and dislocated his shoulder, so I think that was the only reason he let us. 

I didn't see Dad again for a few months. When he did come back, he took Dean outside, and they had a long talk. I never heard what was said, but it was like nothing ever happened, like he'd never broken his arm or anything. I could never ask Dean about it, because I knew he'd thought I was asleep that night, and he has no idea I know.” 

Gabriel was silent for a long time. Quietly, he said, “I really fucked up, didn't I, Sam?” 

“Yeah, Gabe, you kind of did.” 

He sighed heavily. “I'll fix this. I promise, Sam, I will.” 

“I hope so, Gabe, I hope so.” Standing, he stretched, feeling his back and shoulders pop after sitting still for so long. “I'm going to bed. Try to stay out of trouble until morning, or so help me you'll find yourself sitting in a circle of holy fire before you can blink.” 

“Scout's honor, Samsquatch,” Gabriel smiled weakly. “Honestly, I think I'll just sit here, and read, if that's okay?” 

Sam nodded, and headed toward his room, leaving Gabriel alone with his thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late! I was traveling and totally forgot to post anything yesterday, and this is the first chance I've had to post today. To make up for it I'll post the last two chapters tomorrow. :)

Dean had always taken comfort in being on the road; letting his mind go on autopilot while the asphalt wound underneath his wheels. Even thought he was on a bike instead of his Baby, it was still a balm to his soul. As the sun sank ahead of him, he sped faster, enjoying the feel of the wind in his face and the thrum of the engine beneath him. He drove until the sun was a distant memory, and the stars started to glimmer in the sky. Spotting an empty field, he pulled off the road, pulling into the field to stop and look at the stars. The night was warm, and he was far enough from civilization that the heavens were bright with millions of stars. With a groan, he climbed off the bike, and after popping the kickstand he sat down on a nearby rock to look at the sky and think. 

Idly he wondered what was going on at home. He was sure that Sam and Cas had run into Gabriel by now, and he chuckled to himself at Cas' reaction to seeing the archangel again. Especially now that she knew that he was the one to blame for everything happening. Unbidden, Cas' warm smile popped up in his thoughts; his real face. How he'd look every time Dean made a joke that he didn't understand. His kicked puppy look. And those intense stare downs they always had, just the two of them. Like for a moment, everything and everyone else vanished, and it was just the two of them. He'd joked once, and told Cas during one of those stares that the last time he'd had somebody look like that, he'd gotten laid. And damn if Cas hadn't just stared at him all the harder. It still made him chuckle, but then he remembered what Cas had said. About wanting to sleep with him from the moment they met. He swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck. 

He heard his phone beep then, and with a sigh, he fished it out of his pocket. Instead of a slew of missed calls and texts like before, he had five texts, all of them from Cas. 

**Dean, please come back home. We need to talk, and I'm sorry for earlier. I feel like I need to explain, explain why I was saying no. Before, in that room, I'll admit I was selfish. I pushed you into having sex, partly because of the spell, and partly because I wanted to. If it was going to be the only time I could have that closeness with you, I wanted to take the chance and have it. I never dreamed that you could maybe feel anything than friendship for me, until you thought I was trying to have intercourse with Sam. I'm still not sure what you feel for me, but I know you were jealous. But before I could talk to you about it, you left. Then you were back, we sparred, and while I wanted to say yes to you, I didn't want us to be just sex. I want to be with you, Dean, to be by your side always. You're more than just a soldier, you always have been, to me at least.**

He swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears again. He rubbed his eyes hard with his free hand, cursing quietly. If anybody was a selfish motherfucker, it was Dean Winchester. He sighed again, and looked back at his phone for the second message, sent a few hours later. 

**Dean, I know by now that you've convinced yourself that you're doing this for my benefit, that I don't deserve you, or you don't deserve happiness or any other such thing that makes you a martyr in your own mind. So I'm going to say something to you, Dean, because I was too cowardly to say it before, and in case this is the only time I get to say it. I love you. I love the way you throw yourself into danger for others, not caring about the cost to yourself, because it's the right thing to do. I love how dedicated you are to family and those few friends who have earned your respect. Knowing that at one time I was granted that honor meant the world to me. I love your soul, which drew me like a beacon in Hell when I was sent to find you. Naomi had it right, then when I first laid my hand on you, I was lost.**  
The third message was longer. 

**You've changed me irrevocably, for the better, I think. I was just a mindless servant of Heaven, a soldier. You forced me to think for myself, to make decisions, and to accept the consequences of my actions. I've never regretted following you and your brother, even after I realized the depth of my feelings. Until we were trapped in that room, I would have been content for the rest of my days to simply be your friend, to be close to you in the only capacity I could. Now, however, it's like I'm able to see color when before all was gray. I can't take back what happened between us, nor would I want to.**

**Angels don't care much for gender or sexuality. After much thought, as much as I would miss my other form, if staying in this one would make it easier for you, and persuade you to give us a chance to explore the possibilities, I would gladly stay the way I am. While it was a bit of a shock at first, I find I'm not as upset by the idea anymore. Though I suppose, if we never saw each other again, I would be in this form regardless. However you feel, I love you, Dean, and I want you to be happy, even if that happiness doesn't involve me. I will respect whatever decision you make.**

Dean was already feeling like shit. He knew when he'd left that he was leaving Cas stuck the way she was. And now she was offering to stay that way, just so Dean wouldn't have to deal with his hang-ups? Then he saw the last message. 

**Dean, please talk to me. Even if it's to say goodbye.**

“Dammit, Cas,” he sighed, thunking his forehead with the phone. He stared at his phone, as if willing it to tell him what to say. He started to type, then erased it all. Cursing, he started again.

**_Cas, this is what I meant by we keep hurting each other. Sometimes it doesn't matter how much you care about somebody, sometimes it's just not meant to be. I'm poison, to anybody and everybody around me. You're better off without me._ **

Almost immediately, he got a reply. 

**If you care about somebody, you don't give up just because things aren't going the way they should. You didn't give up on me in Purgatory, why is this any different?**

Dean didn't have an immediate answer for that, other than the admittedly childish 'because it is'. He started, erased, cursed, and started again. 

**_Purgatory didn't scare me, not really. Honestly? This scares the shit out of me. I have a lot of baggage, Cas, I'm not sure I'd ever be able to be what you need. That's if I could ever get past my own crap to even try._ **

**So you admit that you would if you could?**

Dean sucked in a breath. Fuck. At least he wasn't having to look at Cas and have this conversation, too. 

**_Yeah, I guess I am._**

**Then can you explain to me exactly what's stopping you? Please know that isn't an attack, I'm trying to understand.**

**_I know, Cas, I get it. I'm not good at talking about stuff. Truthfully, I'm not into guys, and that's a big hang up for me. But there was always something about you. I'd be lying if I said I never thought about it. But going from imagination to reality is a big thing, and I can't promise I'd be okay with it being real. I'm afraid I'll hurt you if I can't get over that._ **

**You think I didn't realize that? Why do you think I'm offering to stay the way I am? That was for you, not for me. I love you, and I've done everything and anything over and over again to prove it to you. All we have to do is wait out the spell.**

**_Cas, you shouldn't have to change who you are. And I kinda miss you, I mean, the old you. Even though I know it's you in there, it's still a lot like looking into a stranger's face. It's not the face I fell in love with._ **

Too late, Dean realized to his horror what he'd sent. _Fuck fuck fuck_. He checked his phone again, hoping that maybe it didn't send, but to no avail. He closed his eyes, trying to calm his rapidly escalating heartbeat and breathe through his panic. He hadn't realized he'd typed the words until it was too late. His eyes popped open when the phone buzzed in his hands, startling him enough that he almost dropped it.

**You love me? Please don't say it, even by text, if you don't mean it, Dean.**

He stared down at his phone for a long time, long enough for it to buzz again with another message from Cas. 

**Dean, are you still there? Please, talk to me. We can pretend you didn't say it.**

Cas knew him too well, knew he was probably freaking out. He blew out a breath before replying. 

**_I'm still here, Cas, sorry. I just needed a minute to process. I don't need to pretend, I might not have meant to say it right then, but it doesn't make it any less true. Kinda easier this way, really._ **

**So what are you saying, Dean?**

**_I'm saying, I'm not sure how things will work. I'm saying I'm not sure we can do this. I've never been made for the apple pie life, Cas._ **

**Who said anything about apple pie? I don't see how us being in a relationship has to do with pastry.**

Dean chuckled to himself before replying. 

**_I meant having a normal life, Cas. Family, kids, settling down. I'm a hunter, it's all I've known, and all I'm good at. Relationships and hunting don't mix._ **

**Dean, you're a hunter, and I'm an angel. There is nothing normal about us. I've been doing a lot of reading lately, and one thing I've learned is that no relationship is normal, it's more about what works for us, not for everyone else. If our relationship is hunting people, and saving things, then that's what it is. Besides, if I'm returned to my original state having a family wouldn't be possible unless we adopt. As for a home, you are my home, Dean. All the rest is superfluous.**

**_It's that easy, huh?_ **

**It can be. Come home, Dean.**

**_Thought your wings didn't work right now?_ **

**They don't, but Gabriel is here. Come home, please.**

**_All right, Cas, you win._ **

**You'll find it's easier if you continue to think that, Dean. :)**

He couldn't help it, he laughed out loud. Damn sassy angel. He stood with a groan, stretching stiff muscles from sitting for so long. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes. “Gabe, hope you've got your ears on, I could use a ride home,” he prayed. 

A rustle of feathers, and he opened his eyes to find the archangel in front of him. “Angel air, at your service, Dean-o,” Gabriel bowed with a flourish. 

“You can take the bike home too, right? I don't want to leave it,” Dean asked. 

“Psh, hello, archangel!” Gabriel drawled, rolling his eyes. “Ready?”

“As I'm ever gonna be,” Dean replied. 

With a snap of his fingers, Gabriel took them back home.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to go ahead and post last two chapters. Oh, and fair warning, there be smut ahead. ;)

Dean stared at the door to the garage. He looked back at Gabriel, and nodded his thanks, before grabbing the clicker for the door to open it up. When the door got high enough, he wheeled the bike through, pausing long enough to close the door again before walking the bike back to it's parking spot. He paused, looking around the garage, with all it's old cars, his Baby in the center. Everything was where it should be, but it felt like his whole world had tilted on its axis. 

“You okay there, Dean?” Gabriel asked softly. 

“I don't know yet,” he answered honestly, looking down at the duffel he'd pulled off the bike. “I'm still not sure how all this is going to go.” 

“Dean?” 

Dean looked up, to see Cas standing in the doorway that led to the bunker. “I heard the garage door open, I thought...” she stopped, looking between Dean and Gabriel. 

“We just got back,” Gabriel said smoothly, rubbing his hands together. “So I'm gonna go bother Samsquatch, and let you two crazy kids talk,” he said, laughing at Dean's sudden scowl. “Play nice kids!” he called as he sailed past Cas and out the door. 

Dean was still standing by the bike, not sure what to do or what to say. He didn't notice Cas had come up beside him, until her hand touched his arm, gently. 

“Dean, are you alright?” 

He shook his head before answering. “Yeah, Cas, I'm good.” He made an effort to smile at her. 

“Can I...can I hug you?” she asked shyly, looking as if she expected him to say no. 

He didn't reply, he just pulled her into his arms, feeling rather than hearing her sigh of relief and the feeling of tension leaving her body. He closed his eyes, breathing deep the scent of honey and vanilla, realizing how much he'd missed the smell. 

“I thought I'd lost you,” she murmured, muffled against his chest. 

“Cas, I didn't die, I just left,” he sighed, wrapping his arms tighter around her. 

“No, but the way your letter was written made it sound pretty final,” she replied, pulling away to look up at him. 

Dean said nothing for a long moment, just looking down into those endlessly blue eyes. “I honestly wasn't sure if I would have, come back, I mean,” he said softly. 

“Well, I'm glad I was able to change your mind,” she answered. 

Before he could change his mind, he leaned down, slowly, both letting her know his intentions and giving her time to pull away if she didn't want it, didn't want him. As close as they were, he could feel her heart beat, could feel how it sped up as his lips softly claimed hers, gentle and sweet. Could feel how her breath hitched. He watched as her eyes fluttered closed, and he closed his as well, savoring the feel of her lips against his. “I love you, Cas,” he whispered, his lips against hers. 

“I love you, Dean, always,” she whispered back, before jerking back from him with a cry. Her body was enveloped in a bright white light, seemingly emanating from her chest, and her arms flung out and her head was thrown back, mouth open in a soundless scream. With a gasp, she managed to choke out, “Dean! Your eyes, shut your-”

Dean slammed his eyes shut, throwing an arm across his face for good measure, as what felt like a supernova exploded in front of him. As the light dimmed, he blinked hard, willing away the spots that were eating up his vision. “Cas? Cas!” he called, reaching blindly to try and find her. 

A groan came from the floor, and Dean was able to make out the shape of a body, crouched on the floor. At first all he could see was dark hair, but then the head raised and he saw Cas. His Cas. Blue eyes, framed by five o'clock shadow and those lips that always looked so chapped but were really so soft. His heart gave a painful thump, then he noticed the rest, and started chuckling, before moving into full on laughter. 

“Dean? What's so funny?” Cas looked down at himself, and groaned. While he was back to himself, the clothes he had been wearing hadn't changed with him. The bra he'd been wearing had apparently snapped open in the back, as the chest it was stretched across was flatter in the front but wider across than previously. The tee shirt hadn't torn, but it was stretched comically, and the bottom hem was up well past his navel. The sweatpants had fared the worst, however, ripping at the seams at the increased size of the leg now wearing them. 

“You Hulk'ed out of your clothes, man, that's awesome!” Dean laughed, throwing his head back as he howled. 

“I fail to see the humor, Dean,” Cas growled, as he picked himself up from the floor. With a grunt, he managed the pull off the too small shirt and the remnants of the bra. The pants were tight in the waist, but both legs were ripped right up to the crotch, the material hanging in tatters around his thighs. 

Dean's laughter dried up as he caught sight of Cas' bare chest. His gaze traveled down almost against his will, taking in the Enochian tattoo on Cas' hip, and the flat plain of his abdomen. A small trail of hair arrowed down under his navel, before disappearing into the waistband of the ruined sweats. He'd never seen the angel show this much skin before, and it was both horrifying and reassuring how the sight sent blood rushing south. 

“Dean?”

Dean jerked his eyes back up to Cas' face, who had a smug look on his face. “My eyes are up here, Dean,” he said, raising one eyebrow with a smirk. 

“Shut up,” he mumbled, feeling the tips of his ears burn and his face flush as he quickly looked away, anywhere but at the half naked angel in front of him. He felt the warmth of the other man's body before he'd realized Cas had even moved, but he still flinched when he felt Cas gently touch his face to bring his eyes back to his. 

Blue eyes met green. This time it was Cas who took the lead, leaning in slowly, trying to give Dean time to adjust. This time it was Dean's pulse that jumped, his breath that left his body in a rush. He closed his eyes as Cas' lips met his, softly, almost a brush of skin rather than a true kiss. 

“Is this okay, Dean?” Cas breathed against his mouth. 

Dean could feel how badly Cas wanted this. Hell, he wanted this. He swallowed hard, and nodded, his eyes still closed, waiting to feel lips against his again. 

“Dean, look at me.” 

Dean slowly opened his eyes, letting out a sharp breath. Cas' eyes were mostly pupil now, the bright blue ringing an ocean of black. Cas leaned in again, slowly, his eyes on Dean the whole time, as he brought their lips together, again, softly. When he felt Dean relax into the kiss, he deepened it, licking the seam of Dean's lips, silently begging for entrance. When Dean opened his mouth, he licked inside, as if Dean was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. Tentatively, Dean touched his own tongue to Cas', causing the angel to growl. The sound sent heat arrowing directly to his groin, and if the throbbing hardness against his thigh was any indication, Cas was feeling it too. Cas wrapped strong arms around him, holding him close, and ground his hips against Dean's, making both of them groan at the friction. 

“This is not the right place for this,” Cas growled as he let go and stepped back, reluctance clear in his face and body. 

“Yeah, not too many comfortable places in a garage,” Dean half-laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“That's not what I meant,” he replied, giving Dean a smirk. “I just prefer this time to not be in a dirty garage.” 

“Geez, Cas, such a girl,” Dean teased. 

“Up until about ten minutes ago, yes, I was. Now, the question is, I believe, your room? Or mine?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at Dean. 

Dean gulped hard. “Uh, mine? I guess?” He felt nervous suddenly. Fuck, this was really gonna happen. 

Cas must have seen the doubt, because he reached out a hand to Dean, cupping his face and kissing his cheek gently. “We don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Dean, you know that.” 

Dean nodded, blowing out a breath. “I know, it's just weird, you know? You and me. Never really thought something like this would happen. Or that I'd want it, honestly.” He looked up at Cas, reaching up to squeeze the hand still on his face. “I just don't wanna disappoint you,” he said softly looking away. 

“Dean, you could never disappoint me. Even if we never progressed past this point, I'd be happy. Being with you is what makes me happy.” 

“I just don't know if I can,” Dean confessed softly, unable to look Cas in the eyes.

“Then we'll make do with what you can, and go from there,” Cas said gently, reaching down to take Dean's other hand and gently tugging on it to pull him towards the door. 

Dean swallowed hard as he followed Cas out of the garage and down the hall towards his room. He was a full on bundle of nerves now, as Cas shut the door behind them and locked it. He stood like a nervous prom date, and watched Cas cross the room toward him. Cas stopped slightly in front of him, close enough that a deep breath from either of them would cause them to touch. He reached up and gently cupped Dean's face again, slowly leaning in to kiss him, soft and sweet. Dean closed his eyes as the breath he didn't know he'd been holding shuddered out. Cas kissed him again, softly, before moving to press kisses against his jaw, and down the column of his throat. Dean threw his head back, enjoying the sensation, as Cas licked over the pulse point under his jaw. He shivered at the feel of stubble scraping against his jaw, feeling his dick twitch with interest at the sensation. Cas closed the hairsbreadth of distance between them, gently pushing Dean back onto the bed. Dean looked up at Cas as he scooted back, giving the other man room to kneel on the bed. 

“So beautiful,” Cas murmured, ducking his head to kiss him again. He tugged gently on Dean's over shirt. “Can I touch you?” he asked gently. 

Wordlessly, Dean nodded. With gentle hands, Cas pushed the over shirt off Dean's shoulders and down his arms. He locked eyes with Dean again as his hands touched the hem of Dean's long sleeve henley, silently asking for permission to remove that too. Dean closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and opening them again his hands met Cas', both of them pulling the shirt up and over his head. Gentle hands pushed him down to lie on the bed, Cas straddling his hips. Dean could feel Cas' arousal, thick and hard against his own. He shifted his hips almost absently, and both men groaned at the sensation. Cas ran his hands across Dean's chest, his sides, and across his stomach, as if in worship. Dean watched as he traced his lips across the same path his fingertips had been, making Dean shiver at the featherlight touch and the feel of care and love. When Cas' mouth ghosted across his left nipple Dean couldn't control the grunt that escaped it, and Cas stopped moving, coming back to see if he could provoke the sound from Dean again. When a warm, wet tongue reached out and flicked the hard nub, Dean groaned and fisted a hand in Cas' hair before he could stop himself. The scrape of teeth made his breath come out in a hiss, and his hips jerked against Cas, causing both men to groan. Cas moved to lavish attention on the other nipple, making Dean moan. 

“Touch me, Dean,” Cas groaned, his tongue flicking out against Dean's nipple again. 

Dean didn't have to be told twice. His hands came up, stroking softly up and down Cas' sides, ghosting over the hard planes of his back. When Cas sat up, he trailed his fingers over his chest, tracing lines over his abs and following the lines of his tattoo. When Cas shifted his hips, grinding against him, Dean's hands latched onto the other man's hips, his head thrown back at the sensation. His dick was hard enough to break rocks, and the pressure against his jeans was starting to hurt. 

“I think you're wearing too many clothes,” Cas smirked, shifting down to sit on Dean's thighs so he could unsnap the button and unzip the jeans. 

“Dammit, Cas, please,” Dean groaned, as the pressure against his dick eased. His boxers were wet with precome, but he didn't give a damn about it right now. 

“Please, what, Dean? Tell me what you want,” Cas purred, a teasing edge to his voice. 

“Off, take them off, dammit, please,” Dean cried. 

Cas swung one leg over and off, kneeling beside Dean so that they could get the jeans the rest of the way off. Dean was so turned on, he didn't even notice that the boxers went too, or that Cas had shed the ruined sweatpants until Cas was back straddling his hips again. They were skin to skin now, and both men groaned at the feel. Cas kissed him, a little rougher this time, before kissing his way down Dean's chest. Slowly, he scooted his body down until he was lying on his stomach, between Dean's legs, and Cas locked eyes with him as he blew a cool puff of air against his overheated dick. 

“Jesus Christ!” Dean shouted, as Cas laughed. 

“Not quite, Dean. Even by human standards, it's rude to call someone else's name during intercourse,” Cas teased, before licking a long stripe up Dean's dick, from the bottom to the tip. 

“Cas, you're killing me here,” Dean groaned, unable to look away from the sight of Cas licking him like an ice cream cone. 

“Oh, well, in that case,” Cas said thoughtfully, before all but swallowing him down to the base in one go. 

“ _Fuck_!” Dean yelped, as the wet heat of Cas' mouth surrounded him. And then, the bastard started humming against his dick, and for a moment Dean forgot how to breathe. Especially when Cas started to move, bobbing up and down and hollowing his cheeks, using the perfect amount of suction as his tongue swirled circles on the underside of his dick. 

Cas pulled off with a wet pop, giving Dean an absolutely wicked grin. Crawling back up Dean's body, he kissed him, sloppy and wet and perfect, and Dean gave a muffled groan at the taste of himself on Cas' lips. Cautiously, Dean reached for Cas, gently palming the angel's erection and sliding his palm across the head. 

Cas stilled above him, closing his eyes briefly before he spoke. “Dean, you don't have to do that, I know you're not-”

Dean shut him up with a kiss, and whispered against his mouth, “I want to,” as he gripped him a little firmer, giving it a gentle stroke. He scrabbled with his other hand for his bedside drawer, yanking it open and pulling out a bottle of lube. With Cas watching his every move, he popped open the cap and drizzled some onto his hand. Clicking the lid closed, he rubbed his palms together briefly to warm it, before reaching between them again and wrapping his hand around Cas' dick. Groaning, Cas closed his eyes, losing himself in the feel of Dean's hand stroking his dick. And damn, if the sight wasn't hot. Cas was making small little sounds, his lips swollen from kisses. Dean wanted nothing more than to see Cas come apart, wanted it like he wanted air. He didn't know how, but it seriously felt like his own dick got harder from the sight. 

“Wait, Dean, stop, or I'm gonna-” Cas gasped, his breath hitching. 

“I know, Cas, that's the point,” Dean grinned, refusing to stop but slowing down instead, moving his hand excruciatingly slowly up and down, adding a twist at the top of his dick. 

“Would you...I mean, if you wanted...”

“What do you want, Cas? Tell me.” 

“I want you, Dean,” Cas breathed, opening his eyes to look at Dean. 

“I think we're past that point, don't you, Cas?” Dean smiled, looking down at the angel's cock in his hand. 

“I mean, I want you, inside me,” Cas said, his hips moving when Dean's hand stilled. 

Dean looked up at Cas for a moment, taking in the sight. Cas whimpered, honest to god whimpered, because Dean had stopped moving his hand on his dick. He looked up at Dean then, and shook his head. “Never mind, Dean, it's fine,” he said, misreading the look on Dean's face. “This is enough.” 

“The hell it is,” Dean growled. “I was just surprised, that's all, Cas, at least give a guy a chance to think about it. It wasn't a no.” 

“Are you sure? I meant it when I said that we don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

“More sure than I've been about a lot of things,” Dean answered, sitting up and gently pushing the angel down to the bed, and knelt between his legs. Grabbing the lube again, he slicked up his index finger, and added another dollop to the puckered skin around his hole. “If it hurts, or is uncomfortable, you need to tell me, okay?” 

“You won't hurt me, Dean, I promise,” Cas breathed, his eyes wide and a little frantic. 

Slowly, Dean teased the skin around the hole, before easing the tip of the finger in. Cas was so tight, just imagining putting his dick there made him have to bite his lip and breathe so he wouldn't pop off like a teenager on prom night. After a minute or so, he started to move his finger, slowly pumping it in and out, going slightly deeper each time. After looking up at Cas, who nodded, he added more lube and added his middle finger, slowly. Cas hissed out a breath, and Dean stopped, looking up at Cas in concern. Dean waiting for Cas to nod, and slowly began to move his fingers in and out, making a scissor motion with the two fingers to make more space. His middle finger flicked upward and must have hit his prostrate, because Cas let out the filthiest moan and called Dean's name. 

“Hmm, that was a good spot, huh?” Dean murmured, and crooked his finger again, trying to find it again. He knew he succeeded when Cas cried out again. 

“Dean, please,” Cas begged. “I'm ready, please.” 

“Almost, Cas, almost,” Dean crooned, adding more lube and finally adding a third finger, managing to nail the other man's prostrate on almost every move of his fingers. Cas was whimpering, almost incoherent, and had started to buck his hips against Dean's fingers. He cried out in what sounded like Enochian when Dean took his fingers out, gasping for air he didn't need. Slicking himself up, Dean lined himself up, and slowly pushed in past the tight ring of muscle. Even with the prep, Cas was still tight, and the feel of all that heat and pressure against the head of his dick was almost enough to finish him then and there. He stopped, both to give Cas a chance to adjust, and himself to get under control, before he sank in a few inches deeper. Slowly, slowly, he pushed in, trying to give Cas time to get used to the feeling, and gradually bottomed out. Buried to the hilt, he stilled, trying to catch his breath and not be too rough, when everything in him was screaming to move, to pound into the flesh beneath him. 

“Dean, please, move,” Cas begged, after a few minutes, his voice broken and rougher than usual. 

Gently, Dean moved, sliding out almost to the head of his dick before pushing back in again, burying himself in the angel beneath him. He pulled out again, achingly slow. 

“Dean Winchester, I'm not going to break, now _move_!” Cas growled, snapping his hips up and taking all of him in a sharp motion that had Dean seeing stars. 

It was like whatever leash holding Dean back snapped. He groaned and started fucking into Cas, pounding the other man into the mattress, his hands gripping his hips hard enough to leave bruises. Not satisfied with the angle, he pulled the angel to him, wrapping Cas' legs around him, and leaned back on his hands, fucking up into the angel now sitting on his lap. At this angle, he was hitting Cas' prostrate on almost every stroke, and Cas chanted his name like a prayer, on and on. 

He was close, so close, but he didn't want to go without Cas. “Touch yourself,” he commanded, his voice rough. “Now, come with me.” 

Cas could do nothing but nod, and reached between them to wrap his hand around his dick, pumping furiously. It seemed like only seconds passed before he came with a yell, his hole spasming around Dean's dick. The sight and feel of it was enough to push Dean over the edge, and he came hard, before collapsing back on the bed, Cas flopping down beside of him, both trying to get their breathing under control. 

“That was...that was something,” Dean gasped, lifting his head briefly to look at Cas, before letting it thump back against the bed. 

“It was very enjoyable,” Cas said, a lazy finger trailing through the come on his chest, “but quite messy,” he huffed. 

Dean laughed. “Good sex is always a little messy, Cas, that's half the fun.” 

Cas snapped his fingers, and the mess was gone, sweat included. “I don't like being messy.” 

Dean blinked. “Well, that's a handy trick,” he laughed, rolling onto his side and propping his head on his arm. 

Cas mimicked his action, leaving them staring at each other. “Dean, I honestly didn't mean to move that fast, but...is this okay? Are we okay?” 

Dean was quiet a minute, looking into Cas' eyes. He looked so unsure and hopeful at the same time. Finally he said, “Yeah, Cas, we're okay.” 

“And as for everything else?” 

“I meant what I said earlier, Cas. I can't promise I won't fuck up, or do things that might drive you away. I can't guarantee anything, that I won't get weird about this later. It's gonna take me some time to adjust, it's hard to overcome a lifetime of being told something is wrong.” Dean sighed, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them again and locking eyes with Cas. “But I want to try.” 

Cas' whole face lit up with a smile, his eyes crinkling and so wide his gums showed. It made Dean's heart thump painfully to see it, and he realized he'd never seen Cas smile like that before. 

“Can I kiss you, Dean?”

“Cas, man, I just had my dick in your ass, I'm pretty sure you don't need permission to kiss me anymore,” Dean laughed, pulling the other man close and brushing his lips with his. 

Cas laughed, and snuggled against Dean's chest, his arm around his waist. “I love you, Dean,” he said, pressing small kisses to Dean's pec. 

“I love you too, Cas,” Dean whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his angel's hair, snuggling him close as he drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it, the ending of my first fic! Thanks for all the kudos and comments, and thanks so much for reading!

Epilogue

Gabriel found Sam sitting in the library, reading a book. Sam looked up when he entered, quirking an eyebrow in question. 

“Don't worry, I deposited your brother safe and sound in the garage, where Cas met him. Since I haven't heard any crashes or bangs, I assume they're either talking or screwing each other.” Gabriel said, flopping down into a chair across from Sam. 

“Ew, man, that's my brother,” Sam griped, making a face. 

“And that's my brother, Samalam, don't be such a prude,” Gabriel smirked. 

“I just want them to work their shit out,” Sam groused. 

“Me too, why do you think I went to all this trouble?”

“Dude, you turned your brother into a girl, and trapped them in a room and basically told them they had to fuck to get out. How was that supposed to help?” 

“It made them realize that attraction was there too, not just the 'profound bond' bullshit.” 

Sam sat up at that. “How did you know about that?” 

“Psh, please. Metadouche liked to talk, and that was one of the things he constantly bitched about, how you guys were Cassie's weak spot, but Dean was his Achilles' heel. Plus, it wasn't hard to figure out the first time I saw them in the same room together.” 

Sam was quiet for a moment. “So, where do angels go when they die? Purgatory?” 

“Nope, I was just, not here, I guess? I honestly don't remember much other than getting stabbed by Luci, and waking up looking at Metadouche's ugly mug.” Gabriel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Honestly, I was mostly just surprised to be alive again, but then I tried to escape, and I was punished for it.” 

“I'm sorry for that. If we had known, we might have been able to do something.” 

Gabriel looked over at the hunter in surprise, noting the sincerity and sadness in the other's eyes. “I don't know if you could have, honestly. Even after his grace was stripped away by Cas, I was still trapped because my grace was tied to his. It wasn't until Amara destroyed him that I was finally free.” 

“I guess that makes sense,” Sam nodded. 

Both men paused as the lights in the library flickered rapidly, on and off. Sam shot to his feet, pulling a gun, but Gabriel waved him back to his seat. Shooting the archangel a confused glance, he moved toward the door until Gabriel spoke. 

“Wasting your time, Sam, I'm pretty sure that just means Cas is back to his old self.” 

Wrinkling his nose, “So wait, they just had sex?” 

Gabriel laughed. “No, sorry to burst your bubble sport, the sex part was just to get them out of the room. To change Cas back, they had to admit their feelings to each other. Seems like they finally got their heads out of their asses.” 

Breathing out a small sigh of relief, Sam put his gun up and sat back down, picking up his book again. “So, you staying for awhile?” he asked the archangel. 

“What, you asking me to hang out, Samalam?” he wiggled his eyebrows at the hunter. 

“Not if you're gonna be a noisy pain in the ass, but might be nice to have company while our brothers are otherwise...occupied,” he retorted. 

“Ah. There is that,” Gabriel mused. “Got Netflix here?”

“Yup, remote's on the fireplace, knock yourself out,” Sam answered. 

Nodding, Gabriel snapped his fingers, both turning the TV on and grabbing the remote without leaving the chair. 

“Lazy bastard,” Sam chuckled, before turning his attention back to his book. 

“Damn right,” he shot back, before turning his attention to the screen.  
***

The next morning, Dean woke up, feeling better than he had in a long time. He looked down to meet Cas' eyes, bright and wide awake. “You didn't sleep, did you?” 

“No, I'm back to myself, and my powers are no longer bound. I no longer need to sleep.” He looked down shyly before looking back at Dean. “I didn't watch you sleep, though. I used the time to meditate and think.” 

Dean smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the angel's forehead. “It's fine, but I seriously have to answer the call of nature, as much as this feels good.” 

“It does? I was afraid that after last night...that when you woke up, you'd have second thoughts,” Cas said softly. 

“This is a little weird, I'm not gonna lie, but right now it's a good weird. Like, it feels right, you know? Like how things are supposed to be. For now, I'm not gonna poke at it, I'm just gonna enjoy it and try to roll with it. So, for now, at least, we're good,” Dean answered, wrapping his arms around the other man and squeezing tight for a moment before letting go. “But seriously, I need to get up, like now,” he laughed. 

Cas smiled at him, that huge, gummy smile from last night, and kissed him softly before moving so Dean could get up. Dean rummaged through his chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of track pants, tossing them to Cas before digging out another pair and a clean pair of boxers. “Need a pair?” he asked Cas, waving the pair in his hand at the other man.  
“I don't wear them,” Cas said simply, as he shimmied into the track pants. 

“Seriously?” Dean gaped at him. “Like, ever?” 

“No, I find they're uncomfortable and my usual clothing is sufficient to cover my nudity without the need for more cloth,” he answered, standing up. 

Dean blinked, his mind immediately conjuring up a thousand dirty pictures of Cas naked. Leave it to Dean to take words that were so unsexy and find it hot as hell. Jerking himself out of his mental gutter, he rummaged in another drawer and tossed Cas one of his old tees, an old Led Zeppelin shirt that had been washed so much it was butter soft to the touch. He grabbed an AC/DC shirt for himself, and slipped on the clothes before heading to the bathroom. Thanks to Cas' clean up last night, he didn't have to shower, but he did have to brush his teeth. 

A few minutes later, he left the bathroom, but his room was empty. Following the smell of coffee, he headed to the kitchen, where Cas handed him a cup. Grateful, he gave Cas a quick peck on the lips, making the other man smile. Then he heard a chorus of 'awws', and winced as he spotted Gabriel and Sam at the table, making sappy faces at him. 

“Fuck you both, and the horses you rode in,” he shot, sipping his coffee. Seeing the smile start to slip from Cas' face, he made up his mind. If he was going to do this, he needed to go all out. Setting his coffee cup down, he grabbed Cas, pulling the other man close, and kissed him deeply, tasting coffee and that honey and vanilla that was just uniquely Cas. When Gabe and Sammy started clapping and wolf whistling, he simply flipped them both the bird, burying his other hand in the back of Cas' hair and licking into his mouth. 

“Okay, okay, we get the point, damn, Dean,” Sam grumped, giving Dean his patented Sam Winchester bitchface. 

Dean gently ended the kiss with another soft peck on Cas' lips, before turning to his brother with a smug smile. “If Cas is good, he'll get the 'point' later,” he teased, slapping Cas hard on the ass. 

Gabriel roared with laughter, both at Dean's comment and the shocked blush that spread across Cas' face. “Oh, little brother, good luck with this one,” he snorted. 

Sam rolled his eyes, and stood, picking up his coffee. “I'm going to the library, where the adults hang out,” he said, as Dean stuck his tongue out at him. He turned back briefly, and looked at Dean and Cas with a small smile. “All jokes aside, though, I'm happy for you guys.” 

“Thanks Sammy.” Dean smiled at his little brother, saluting him with his own coffee cup. 

“Yes, Sam, thank you,” Cas chorused, grinning at the younger Winchester through his blush. 

“C'mon, Gabe, let the lovebirds have some privacy, huh? Don't be a creeper,” Sam called over his shoulder. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes, but stood and started to walk out of the room. At the doorway, he paused, and looked at the pair, a small smile on his face. “I am sorry for how things went, I really did have the best intentions to help you guys,” he said softly. “I just wanted you guys to know that.”  
Dean and Cas looked at each other for a long moment, before they smiled at each other. “I would have happily kicked your ass forty eight hours ago,” Dean said, his eyes still on Cas, before looking at Gabriel. “But now? I'm kinda glad you helped me get my shit together. But,” he held up a finger in warning, his face and eyes hard, “do it again, and I'll find a way to kill you.” 

Gabriel nodded at the warning. “Point made. See ya later.” 

Cas called out, “Gabriel, are you leaving?” 

“Uh, no, I'm gonna go watch Netflix with Sam. He's got me hooked on Game of Thrones, and we're getting ready to start the second season,” Gabriel replied, winking at his little brother. “Don't worry, Cassie, we'll have time to catch up. I'm not going anywhere at the moment.” Tipping a salute, he turned and left the room. 

“So, just you and me now, huh?” Dean drawled, pulling Cas' back against his chest, planting butterfly kisses down the back and side of the other man's neck and making him shudder. “Whatever shall we do?” 

“I...have a few ideas...if you're willing,” Cas shivered, “but they'd be more fun in the bedroom.”

“I can work with that,” Dean said, and let Cas lead him from the kitchen back to their room.


End file.
